memories of you

anything can wake them

the memories of you

.

today it was a leaf

falling from a tree

i was sitting under

.

later the particular way

a boy at the chicken shop

glanced at me

looking up from his chopping

droplets flying off

the cleaver

that he was too young

to be wielding

.

sometimes it is the breeze

that makes me

shiver

in remembrance

of your breath

on my ear

.

or the confident stride

of the girl

in the long straight blue skirt

with the short cropped hair

and black eyes

.

anything can wake them

a little breeze

nudging at the edge

of a folded paper

.

and there is a choice

let it blow away

or dwell on the moment

and unfold the memory

and soak it in

.

sometimes there is dust

to be blown off

and smudged charcoal details

.

like the shape

of the rocks

by the lake

with the mosquitoes

we tried to ignore

that night

.

other times

it is as clear as it was

or perhaps clearer

with details sharpened

into focus

and the background

blurred

.

like the pattern

of fish

on the bra

you shed

when i didn’t look away

as you changed

.

sometimes details fade

with disuse

.

your voice

is clear in my head

but not your words

.

and other times

they fade

with too much unfolding

.

the smell of

another woman

on your skin

i cannot now recall

.

all it takes

is a moment

.

and my head fills

with memories of you

.

every one of you

who lit a spark

in my heart

.

i sink deep into

that delicious loneliness

of what-ifs

.

but in the end

it is the memory

of a memory

.

an idea of you

that you never were

and never will be