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Thoughts
Alot of them are missing and i wonder if i could count the faces in my mind- because i knew you once...just like i knew and shared laughs with that man before the gun marked his temple. Cold.
The intimate moments i can't recall- who was the nurse that was the first to hold me? We shared that moment and then she handed me to my mother. Gone.
(i wonder if we have touched since. Maybe we bumped elbows in the shampoo section in walmart. i wonder if she used the same shampoo she did when i was born. i wonder if that was the first thing i smelled.)
Dynamite explodes in my face- suffocates a familiar face so that i never force myself to see the memories- because i still see their smiles, turning into laughs, turning into that blurry after thought so that only the smell of cologne or vodka can make me recall the memory. Remember.
Would i know that nurse on the street? No more than i would know the man on the street who touched me with greedy hands. So why do i care? Because these small faces are imprinted- posted like a sticky note in my thoughts. Forever.
