A black ringlet curls to lie at the nape of her neck, glistening with sweat in the evaporate moonlight... This is what I remember now that I cannot forget. And tonight, if I have forgotten her name, I remember... rigid wire and white lace half-impressed in her flesh, our soft cries, like regret ...the enameled white clips of her bra strap still inscribe dimpled marks that my kisses erase... now that I have forgotten her face. ('The Effects of Memory' by Michael R. Burch)