Memories

are stored, sometimes burrowed,

only to be used, to my advantage,

as bookmarks,

as accurate reference points, reliable

proof for a pointing finger

game. And although

nostalgia can be so refreshing,

I never took pleasure in reality

(past or present)

much preferring to conjure

and hide behind a glass bubble.

However, I walked today.

The concrete beneath my immobilized

toes felt real and in response

my shoulders hunched in humble

defeat.

I remember we walked on that

street two years prior.

For scenery, you said

And honestly, what lovely scenery.

We were big kids then. Believing we deserved

beauty in the city.

But, today, I still hide

behind a glass bubble hoping the

memory of you doesn't invade my

precious

bubble

air.