these remembering things

we thought something terrible had happened.

we thought the awful smell was coming from the cabinets
or that the nation was under attack because the couch had changed colors.

he said i’d like to introduce you to this person i won’t admit to knowing. say pleased to meet you.

he said i can’t talk to you when you’re this negative and i said i can’t talk to you when you’re this tan and when i’m trying to drink water and it is so goddamn hot. i said i know you have been hiding things since january, what i am trying to figure out is where you found the space.

he said i’m sorry, i don’t know anyone by that name.

we thought we had grown past this. we thought we had moved on to more affirming types of people.
we thought writing was some kind of tranquilizer, like nighttime or television.

she said i love to remember these beautiful remembering things.
i think she hasn’t learned the word memories.

she said i think something died at wabash and adams. everyone in their cars rolled up their windows and all the people on the street put their hands to their faces. i said do you think it was important?
she said it was close to the library.

in my old town there were plenty of cemeteries to wander around in but in this town there’s just street.
miller’s pub has a new flashing sign, have you seen it?

he said i don’t know what you mean by that.

what i mean is that i thought something terrible had happened but really the terrible thing had already happened and what i was doing was remembering.