When you forget things you wonder, how could I ever remember?
So I was thinking of D– and how –A’s leaving now after less than forever
and of the people that were there when she came and who left after
and who replaced who and who got rid of who and who never stayed.
So I was thinking of N– and her bloated water-balloon belly and –I,
yes I remembered her though she, by all accounts, is totally, absolutely, forgettable.
I remembered, and my mind went off course, of course. Did she use emoticons?
(Don’t worry, your boyhood lyricism will come back (to haunt you))
I remembered nothing but that the tone was angry and the message cryptic,
she said something like: Some people know some thongs [sic, yeah !] about other people and keep them to themselves, and some people choose
to write a fucking book. I remembered, and I didn’t want not to.
So many things have happened and I’ve only taken notes of so few.
It comes from not having done enough thinking.
You blame her for forgetting things. Mind. It used to be so clear.
You can conjure up any name of friends out of the mere smell of loneliness.
Because thinking hurts. Thinking is lonely. Think lonely.
Why don’t we begin at the start? We hardly ever have clear objectives in our lives.
Divagyrations 