Among Friends.

That's memory:
when slipping away creeps under
the floorboards to here.
When forgetting stomps through the
kitchen barefoot.
It takes a pillow by me, and
rolls over all night. It
keeps me awake most.

Day slops in the window and
I remember nothing.
All the parts
break.
The wallpaper of my chest splits and
cracks under the paint.

Voices from outside. Sisters walk down an alley
to school with their singsong -

'Night comes an-d n-ight go-es
Day slips be-tween
Thin shee-ts of li-ght
Co-ver the earth so shortl-y

Now w-e go aw-ay
Off for the re-st of our l-ives
Little shee-ts of li-ght be-tween
The coming and go-ing of n-ight.'

This is only how I know things.
Truth has no similar tale.