When I forget something
And have to go back
To the room where I left it
A word or a pencil or a person
I stop at the doorway and
Look in to see if it’s still there
I don’t have to go all the way back
Into the room to find it
So maybe I’m making progress
In unremembering what
I keep coming back for
To live at the behest of the future
Of what so urgently
Wants to be remembered
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