Memory is loyalty
to something not there.
I sit outside the past
like a dog outside
a bar, and what
I'm waiting for went
out the back door
hours ago. I furrow
my brow and alert
my ears and eyes.
And I remember.
The future wants
to take me for a
walk. It hooks
a leash to my collar.
And here we go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem