My Memory Line

Underneath the memory line

There is just a little space

And I can squeeze myself in tight

With a candle and a book

I can make the ending always come out right

And I can change the plot to fit my taste

Because underneath the memory line

I make the calls

I don’t forget I don’t forgive

And I never ask for mercy

Never

I have transcended

And I’ve gone under

Let the bubbles float to the surface

Seen the coral bleached from all perfection

Deep down beneath the memory line

The barnacles are fastened tightly

They are dark and rabid

Stubborn as stubborn oxen

Noses drilled and eyes so angry and sad

I have brought you to my memory line

First fooling you with what I knew

Then fooling me with what I didn’t

I have struck out with my memory line

Put pins upon my maps

Got lost, got hungry, got scared

Until I saw the road again

In others too I know the look

When they are on their quest

Their memory lines breaking free from the tentacle like tethers

Fraying and exploding Fourth of July on a dark night

These memory lines seem to go on forever

Like filaments of neurons

That stretch endlessly through my body

Or that spider web on Spencer Pond

Covered in dew

 Dripping in wet in the sunlight

That early morning ensconced in fog

Somewhere in my memory line.