Thursday, April 9, 2015

Seven is the number of forgetting.





Seven is the number of forgetting.


I had to be there at seven, and the date
escaped me. At nine, when I slammed the trunk,
I remembered, tried driving fast enough to turn
back time. Didn’t work.

Tonight I was sure I needed to be there
     at seven.
Showed up 15 minutes early, to an empty,
dark house. No cars in the drive. Checked my
email from last week. Appointment was seven
…hours ago.  Seven.  The number of forgetting.

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