I wonder, is this me, well, yes, of course it is inner voice, but more speaking outward, why can I just not forget (shake?) the past, like filing a book in a library, filed by some number, in a drawer, on some shelf, in some shadow, certainly still in my house but somewhere in a corner, instead of what feels like shackles, self imposed or otherwise, I know the logic, I know the KNOW.. you know? I know I am supposed to forget, time heals all wounds? no, time just is a measure of inches from the time, feet, miles, but does it matter if the coordinates are still there? and the feeling, so many times as I have felt before, like a pilot, in a form, all these years, I’m older now, so many years, have I really changed? what is 10 years anymore… or 20? this used car, an efficient model to be sure, but mileage is mileage regardless of care, and accidents unforeseen, or your fault, well, that is part of being on this road, isn’t it? you can buff out the dents but the memory still lies underneath in the metal, can’t get a trade in, at least not yet, even a focus on glorious drives along the coast, on a perfect day, sky – an absolute blue, sun warming but not burning, feeling the temperature gradient rising in your forearm skin, and hands, and your smile, who knows if this was even real or imagined at times, but waves, and tides, maybe the moon is my master, even though my science mind knows it is gravity, or something more, celestial, sinister, banal, scintillating, neither… or none, just me in my little ark sailing into my own unknown, but never able to truly escape the land that bore me, seeds planted, foundations raised, all a part of who I am today… I wish there might be targeted repentant fire I could engage.