98poems/glasses

The life that I lived then
is hard to remember,
and bridges between
there and here
have gone unseen.
Some people seem to have
a continuity I never possessed.
My life has been episodic
at best, a dropped ball
which I pick up again and again,
chased after across the room,
rummaged for beneath sofas,
sat upon by accident
like glasses on the chair.

1/28/98