A Book Reread
I see, looking through a novel read long ago
that most of the story I had overlooked
or misunderstood.
Strings of decades are often a compendium
a journey disjointed by sinkholes and rockfalls;
a digest often left undigested.
If I perused that old book again
went back with a red and blue pencil,
it would no longer be an autobiography
but an 'us' book.
Fact is, you were my collaborators
in these diverse plots,
blameless participants in a tale
I was creating heedlessly
with not a few omissions and fictional asides.
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