The Temptation to Invent
It is very strong,
especially when the memory is hazy.
It begins with “I once knew a man,”
and ends with “but it didn’t work out.”
I always remember something more substantial
than the details, something that does not translate.
Most of what I know is contagious, I
caught it from reading books and passed it on.
But tenderness has disappeared from my tongue;
parts of my heart are missing.
I realize that plot is not essential,
but I get tired of just words, words, words.
Reflecting is simply my way of turning away
from the past. What you see is no longer happening.
