#47: Abadan

Somewhere in the day I found two terrible things:

The first, that the word for never and always is

The same, the exact same, in Farsi, in Arabic.

I never/always forgot how your hands felt

This never/always brings memories I didn't know I had

You never/always remembered best

How to forget,

I never/always forgot the lies,

So the truths taste sweeter.

The second, as I played with nothingness and eternity,

Was the word, your word, the sodden,

Silly, splendidly sappy name that

I had lost, because time is kind like that;

I found it today, because I needed to learn another-

Zemblanity, the opposite of serendipity-

To put a name to the inky depths our

Pasts have heavily sunken into.

I have always/never fled from

The deadweight cinderblocks of remembering.

I apologize for my merciful forgetfulness

That blurs your smile in my mind,

And hope you never/always remember

The word that isn't ours anymore.