Taxi Ride

Sometimes there are all the memories.  Everything.  You search for all the lost memories – even the ones that should be lost forever.

The scars are deep.  So deep.  You think it can be stitched up but.  Everything.

I remembered a conversation from 1995.  On the Hwy 69 curve just before it merges with I10.  It might have been late 1994 but I find that less likely.

Another conversation in the library.  1998.  It was a Saturday night.  Can I have that day back?  I don’t even know who that person is but I think I want to be him.  He was an idiot which isn’t much different than the guy in the mirror now.

Bitterness on a long taxi ride.  The mysteries are magnificent.

No this need not make sense to you.  Several days from now it will not even make sense to me so fear not.

2 Responses

  1. lisa June 19, 2015 / 12:28 pm

    glad to hear it doesn’t need to make sense. What was so great about that guy you want to be?

    • pmbaker June 21, 2015 / 8:53 am

      Nothing great about him at all. He was me.

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