In Reverse

Strangled memories swell to the rhythm of my choke. I get where I'm going eventually, but I'm always in reverse.

Where it goes I am taken. Trailing behind like the string on a balloon. As it drifts away toward the sun. And empty fingers grab at with fists too plump.

Recovery comes in sudden downpours. Saturates quickly. And evaporates just as rapid. Or if not recovery, at least, the notion that someday it may come.

Only to be written. As this life must be. Yellow with the glow of arbitration as my life bargains with itself for another exception.

What is that shadow that lands sometimes upon your ponderous brow. When thick in thought it asks you again what your destination is. It's just the sour of misfortune. The whiskey of disappointment burning your throat. It burns going down, but give it time to cocktail with your blood. Let it change you. As you want it to. As it intends.

And follow the path of yesterday as it leads you back to the present.

Soft enough are the words. To be a cushion when I land. Dark enough is the truth to convince me to jump.

One thought tinkers with the other until all are in pieces.

It's always so easy to take apart. Always so hard to put back together.

You've fumbled me again and again. And still with every throw I wait to be caught.

In reverse every mistake appears to be undone. The world is careful and considerate. In reverse everything we are is closer. And yet so much less permanent.

And love is its own vaccine.