You're grappling so as not to forget what you want
to remember . . . a whoosh as if the surf crashes the cliff
with you floating above . . . You have decided
to practice narrowing your focus to eliminate
the superfluous from your walks . . . the day, deftly unraveling,
seems almost to disappear . . . so many thoughts
vying for your attention . . . then this idea of the texture
of it all . . . everything everyone seemingly connected
with tabs for those nestled in the cleft of your memory . . .
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| Antonio Palmerini |