A rehearsal is about to begin
with you directing the alchemy of irrecoverable moves . . .
Memories, as a form of imagination,
conjure a renewed connection
transmuting a lifetime of incidentals . . .
The elements of style slip into oblivion . . .
This melodrama of not only knowing
what you'll find but how finding it
unveils a misremembering
shadowing narrative entanglements
fills a field with dreams . . .
You have no idea anymore . . .
That was long ago . . .
These things happen . . . and will happen again
despite measures to offset happenstance . . .
Now you're running lines for a one-act . . .
You were at the crossing when the hydraulics failed . . .
There will be other failures, yes? . . .
Are they worth chalking up? . . .
