SILVER SOUL

before i'm off to bed,

before i'm off to dream of a golden retriever playing sick bass lines along to a funky beat set at a band practice in the treehouse i built when i was in the third grade,

i am compelled to sit in polka-dot boxers in front of the computer screen on a
search for a specific mp3.

i go through great lengths to secure the proper songs for the night playlist because it is very important to me.

once complete i rush to the comfort of my comforter and tell myself to relax my entire body, even my ears and nose and mouth, and i clear my mind,

breathe in and out,

position my arms at my side.

i guide myself to a man-made lake and a giant gaping hole where Stephanie and i fled to on a some summer day a long time ago;

and i can distinctly recall the breeze and the roughness of the rocks, and the way they would fall like feathers blowing in a squall as we tossed them in,

and the soft drink we spiked with whiskey which stained our tongues orange;

i am there and in this bed at the same time.

before i drift out of consciousness i tell myself how easy it is to forget, how i have already done it:

how in the past few hours i haven't even thought about it,

how after that summer day, after some time later, some distance farther, we didn't make plans to visit that place again,

we even stopped speaking the same language,

it's easy to just go to sleep and forget all the incommensurable things of life,

i just don't even think about it.

except, tomorrow at lunch, i'll eat a tuna sandwich, and then, it'll happen, i'll have the distinct feeling, the thoughts all come back and i remember them,

they all play over in my head;

it all happens again.

i guess it's not so easy to forget at all.