Written after another visit with a friend who brought me old photos and new kitchen pants. |
Someday I will fade Just like a photograph in one of those books you keep: A distorted memory; there but forgotten. Memories and photos look at me from a stack of old books Brought to visit by a new and dear friend Who provides things needed that I dare Not ask directly for Like Vitamin D and new surgical scrub pants Which I quickly make old In a hot and busy kitchen Where I give my daily pound of flesh And pints Of blood sweat and tears. Someday I will fade Just like a photograph in one of those books you keep: A distorted memory; there but forgotten. I imagine old Browning and Kodak Cameras Set in wide dirt streets, And stuffy portrait studios Where the men and ladies In Sunday finery sit still And uncomfortable As a man With his head under a cloth Slowly counts the seconds And minutes Of picture perfection. Someday I will fade Just like a photograph in one of those books you keep: A distorted memory; there but forgotten. The old dirt roads And dusty streets Are horse-hoof pounded And wagon wheel Pounded into my imagination And somewhere in a distant memory A few words from Pete McKenna Try to wander to The forefront of my mind, But the truth be known, I was a poor student So I don’t remember Streets and dates From 8th grade history. Someday I will fade Just like a photograph in one of those books you keep: A distorted memory; there but forgotten. I try to focus Like that old photographer Holding up a pan Of flash powder Ready to capture your magic In one beautiful portrait, But I am only left With blurry slides And images That keep slipping away Like the ice In the corner of a Sun warmed puddle Or the tears Slowly drying… Someday I will fade Just like a photograph in one of those books you keep: A distorted memory; there but forgotten. |