... (XIX)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGfEGelldX0&ab_channel=Blakroc-Topic

.

.

.

This,

.

This was something...

.

.

Though I couldn't put a thumb 

On what exactly it was

That'd made it so memorable,

.

When,

.

In all matter of fact

And all purpose and intents,

.

It was just another moment

In a string of moments, each

As indifferentiable 

As the ones that'd come before then

Had been 

Against the ones that I'd expect

Would be leading me to the next.

.

And yet,

.

I could feel my hippocampus taking photographs;

I could mark the seconds

As my shallow inhalation

Separated the smells that'd been coating the air -

.

Markedly organizing

The sweat 

from her perfume,

The lighter-flint

And her unlit cigarette

Against the artificial odors of the hotel-room.

.

It was as though 

I were drawing a bookmark

Across the pavement-damp from outside:

.

The concrete impression

That'd been resting in the ink, set

Into the tailored, parchment stack

Comprising the leather-bound bible 

At our bedside.

.

It was as though 

I were cataloguing the city-sense, the night-lights

Of a seemingly never-ending story, against every reason

I might've had -

Every proportionate misgiving

Asking, imploring,

To forego all emphasis 

I could've possibly been providing, to this. 

.

And still,

Try as I might, 

.

It was something...

.

Maybe even something else...

.

As I pulled the smoke from out of in-between

The paleness, of her fingernails

And lay it gently against

The cracked crevices of my lips,

.

I couldn't help but feel the memory setting,

Crystallizing,

.

Like fast-drying cement, 

Like glue,

Like woodstove ceramics -

.

Like the fractional instantaneousness

That became the precise moment 

Of a polaroid's development -

.

And I knew  

It wasn't yet going to be soon 

Before I'd pause to reflect 

And find myself 

Both candidly and

Clandestinely,

Almost absent-mindedly, pining

.

To forget this.

.

.

.

Author's Note

(rough draft - experimental)