There is a hole in my memory

where you stand;

A cave of which I have no knowledge.

Deep within the hidden, dark recesses,

The sweating silence endures–

Pungent and pure.

You re-enact my life in that cave,

Playing out the scenes of my heartbreak,

in the theater of my despair.

Dancing in the stillness,

I nearly see you there–

In the hole in my memory,

Where you stand.


Summer 1976

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