That Memory Thingy

[Ron. Lavalette]

I remember finding my full name and birth date carved into the wall of a wooden cabin I’d never visited in upstate New York 

I remember thick-sliced tomatoes in an abandoned firetower in sweltering August

I remember the smell of my neighbor’s lightning-struck dog

I remember how the walls breathed on acid in 1969

I remember completely forgetting my name after I almost drowned

I remember the first note I ever blew on a tenor sax convinced me

 

 

[Bill Floyd]

Wow, this rings the bell.  A mix of intensity and coincidence and mortality.  Real poetry.

[Teresa]

Yes, I think this is the winner.  Poets always know what to show and what to hide.  Faved.

[Gita]

some family member -- uncle? Father? Grandpa? was so happy the day you were born that he carved your name and the date of your arrival on Planet Earth. That would make me feel special. Really liked: I remember how the walls breathed on acid in 1969.   Ha! Right around the same time, my neuroanatomy professor's head turned into a giant strawberry!

Excellent six, Ron.

[Joey Delgado]

Will always remember you remembering your neighbor's lighting-struck dog. Very cool. What did it smell like?

[Simon Halliday]

I love the last hanger ... I remember the first note I ever blew on a tenor sax convinced me .

That you had found your life's love and calling? That you should never ever touch a sax again?

[Toby Tucker Hecht]

I would love to see an expanded version of number 1.  It is a fabulous mystery.

[Mike Handley]

Outstanding! All of 'em!

[Angela]

Completely remarkable and fascinating.  My favorite of all thus far.

[bolton carley]

that first one is crazy, but i can smell that dog, too.

[Stephen Torelli]

Vivid memories!