Indoor staircases echo like the inside of a
can. The flyers on the wall are upside down.
They stand in groups separated by
conversations about drinking and tests.
Bare foot girls with their hair loosely tied
back sit on the floor under their doorways.

Laying on her bed she puts her legs up in
the air and walks across the ceiling out
of boredom. In the winter the air is the same
inside as it is out, and makes the blood in
their veins slow to a crawl.

Torn pieces of paper with missing
information are lost forever, swept under
gaps in visible space.
He drives from one coast to another
drinking cheap coffee the whole way,
but never could recover all the memories.

2 thoughts on “Memory

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