The things we do

Come to me now, this past, and drape yourself over me, just for a while, and this time here will be released.
Broken memories, slanted thoughts of home, cheese and women on the porch,
Mixed drinks and valiums and first plane rides.
Please say you’ll come for a while and stay and remind me who you are.
I’ll get you a blanket and warm your feet. We can look at pictures and talk about ways you can heal me, because I need healing. We’ll smell wood and hold stones between our fingers and pretend to be sorcerers. You gave me such chills, and thinking about you now leaves me warm. I do believe you are there. Say we mediated on a bus trip and shot arrows in the air and never quite managed to build a model airplane that flew. Remind me of how we once looked at pond scum under the microscope in our basement room, and listened to the Rolling Stones and snuck out back to smoke Viceroys. Just for a while, take a rest here. I’ll put in a video and later we’ll talk about the people that only you remember, and I’ll tell you what I’ve forgotten about them. I”ll ask you, “What happened to me?” and I’ll say, “Please tell me I’m still here.” I’ll believe that’s what you’ll do.