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.
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