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Magical Vanishing Memory Machine

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This poem was partially inspired by the Jefferson Airplane lyric: “Shelves of books in your mirror reflected, / The sidewalks and alleys that you've seen / Show colors change as the images fade / In the magical vanishing memory machine.”

Beneath a drop cloth in the back of the mind hums a machine— gears oiled with old lullabies and levers etched in looping script you almost remember learning. Turn the crank and out drifts a smell-- maybe floral, maybe musty, maybe something like your grandmother’s books just before snow. Sometimes it spits out something that never happened— like a birthday party in a treehouse you never had— still, you can almost taste the cake. Your fingers sticky with invention, you don’t dare question it lest it dissipate like steam in the air. Once it offered the night lamp— celluloid, pale blue clouds, with Hey Diddle Diddle painted around its spinning skirt. You remember the cow, maybe the fiddle, but the cat has slipped away and the spoon won’t answer when you call its name. Colors shift as the images fade— red bleeds into rust, blue dissolves into smoke. Your sister’s dress— once green, or maybe yellow— now flickers like film left too long in the sun. Even voices warp: your name stretching thin in a voice not quite hers. Eventually it stalls— a cough, a whirr, then only the sound of your own breath in the dark. You lift the drop cloth, but there’s nothing to see— just the ghost of a spinning light, still casting shadows you almost recognize.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 6/19/2025 2:58:00 PM
captivating words and I can see the connection to the Jefferson Airplane lyrics...creative and nicely done.
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things