Tense

by czechoslovakia

i used to be happy here, in the subtext, the footnotes. i used to forget the present here because the present was not all that they promised. it wasn't shiny or bright or beautiful or full. i let myself cling to the past here like crumbs at the bottom of a wet bowl. i have reveled in it, let its scent soak into my clothes and trail behind me like a sentence, i have doused my food with it, let my fork bend under its weight. and i have never been brave. and i have never been brave. and i have never been brave.

2012

—Charlie Kaufman

I don't mind if you don't mind

And there it is. The memory washes up on shore, unhinges its jaws and swallows me whole. The sun bleaching the grey sidewalks white, the heat fogging up my sunglasses, the cold panes of the record store's door, the black interior chilled like a freezer—

And I hold my breath, trying to hold the moment in, trying to let my lungs fill with it, let them inflate until I float again. But I can't. The moment passes and another breath comes. My chest compresses and my lunges deflate. Oxygen rushes in and the memory rushes out.