Some Other That

The dead move among us looking for where we were. Only occasionally do time lines connect. My dead dog still sticks her wet nose in my ear when I in my troubled sleep she visits, but she is not there. she is off tracking a ghost twenty years before this man I am now. Today I am on the doorstep of of a Thai restaurant - I think I once lived in Thailand, but it could have been this other person, a younger one who walked through time as if invulnerable. I enter, order a meal in a language I thought I had used up and put away. Now I visit the words again, yet even words forget how I once spoke.