The New Journey Poem by RIC BASTASA

it must have been the fruit of a trance
i must have spoken about a truth
that upon waking up (whatever that is)
i do not remember

it is a stranger that i face that insists upon a name
and address
hoping that i will soon remember it and give it
a temporary home

what was it? i still do not remember
i tell it i do not remember there is no exactness about this
remembering game

i resign into a chasing game, look i could be you and you could be me
i am certain now, there is something else between us that we love
to identify with

ah, it is you, i can feel it, there is no longer a bridge there
the river rises and overflows

someone at the other side of the bank calls your name
with missing letters, with some syllables that you have to guess

and then you walk away, and you know where it is now
and whom.