On a day like today—this day that comes
Every year, sometime between when the streets are swept of pine needles
And when the confetti falls—there are no memories
That come naturally. Conversation is impossible
Because all you can see is outside—
Outside the air is sun-filled and crisp,
And distance is an illusion of the cold.
Outside is tomorrow or the day after.
It takes all your thoughts, but
Doesn’t burden you with concerns like dirty dishes
Or monthly bills.
You’d have to tell yourself, Remember.
Tomorrow already took today,
And yesterday is long gone. When you finally
Leave the house and knot your hands in your pockets
Until the car warms, you don’t
Adjust the mirrors.
--EWW
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