Mapping Myself

Why, I have forgotten much of my life,

what went before.  All those scenes

on beaches, in parks or foreign cities,

those unfathomable entanglements

with people. Great flats of my past

are deforested.

Sometimes, catching moments

of a film I’ve seen, or re-reading a poem,

I re-ink the place where it struck me

before, the same cells responding,

forming a known part of me,
briefly.