And which of us was blessed the more?
You, who remembered only what she wished to
Or me, who never forgot a thing

I can look back and mutter chapter and verse
Upon my jaded tongue, while you speak, when
You speak at all, of visions in soft pastels that
Are all muted through the prism of a cataract mind

It allowed you a certain level of altitude. Not
Necessarily an above-it-all mentality, but one
In which memory did not provide a roadmap
To context or walk you, if only once, down
The Road not Taken

On the other hand I read biography
In your eyes, and see clearly everything from
The day we met to the day we didn’t.

You remember a song you say is my hallmark, while I only
Knew its position on the Billboard charts, and note
To myself that there were ten other songs
I loved then as much as you.

A blessing or a curse, to put your past
On my internal DVR and play it every time
We talk. To note how few steps separate
The girl from the woman grown, leaving me to smile
When you swear you’ve come so far.

And yet you have, and so have I
My heart no longer quickens when you speak
Nor does my stomach twist at the mere sight of
You on a city street. I applaud the march of time
While wondering when, exactly, I became
So wise and old that even the memory of You
Can’t move me?

So I admit you occupy a shelf alone
In the vault, and that all who came before
And after could not flame the heart as
Bright as you. But because you don’t remember,
Or pretend you never did, it is a conversation
We’ll never have, and more’s the pity for that

I know so much about you that you need to learn

10/13/2011

Posted on 10/13/2011
Copyright © 2024 Ken Harnisch