sometimes - memories quiver
slowly, like sliding into a spider
suspending from its webstring
it frightens
drags the furniture into the bathroom
to get a good think on things, easily, cozily
restfully
driving buckets round the island
how old were we then?
linoleum floors
sounded like buildings cringing
it was just you and me
back then
you had the curls, the girls
I had the humor
and a naive sense of things
still do
just me now -
popping through life
thinking these things -
except for the memories
occasional dreams
that stick like spider strings
you're still here
aren't you?
