Just Be Gauze

My nostalgic friends
Want me to remember them
As they wish they were


Like A Steel…Something

My memory’s like an elephant!
I’ve tried ignoring it; I can’t.
It’s big and fat and in the way;
It smells like hell; it’s wrinkled, grey,
And leathery. Still, I suppose
I envy its prehensile nose.
Did I say memory? That’s not
The word I meant…shoot. I forgot.


Ancient epic poets rhymed
(I’ve read) as a device mnemonic,
Narrative synapses primed
For recollection using sonic
Triggers (rhythm worked as well),
Which helps explain the richly-plotted
Blank-verse tale I can’t now tell:
It didn’t rhyme, and I forgot it.

Look Back In Error

Absolutes are always wrong
Shortcuts sometimes take too long
Bird banalities are song
I say ping and you think pong
And not the vaguely racist book
About a truant and a cook
And how he chose the blow he took
Nostalgia needs a second look

Cognitive Flatulence

Don’t you hate when someone asks
You something that you know by heart
And then that simplest of tasks–
Just spit it out–becomes Brain Fart!

A long-time colleague, in a meeting,
Needs an intro to a guest,
And though you said her name in greeting
Right outside, you fail the test.

“What’s your home phone number?” Clearly
Not a Mensa-level quiz,
It still can tax your senses dearly:
“Dude, I’m clueless what it is.”

It isn’t just because I’m aging,
I’ve been like this from the start.
Trust me, it’s no more enraging
For you than for…crap. Brain Fart!

Now That You Mention It

There’s a fact atip my tongue.
I’ve known it cold since I was young,
Deployed it lavishly out loud
In privacy and in a crowd,
And totally at my command
It’s always been. Please understand
That I can dazzle you with it!
Except you’ve asked me to, and…