Three Stories High/A Cross-Examination

Is this an era I will look back on?

As I did at 17, pressing the flats

Of my years like X-ray sheets against the light

Cross-examining them to learn who 

I was becoming

And I can’t tell if I’m forgetting to 

Check my path, see if it’s right

Or if it’s time to forge on, oblivious

The reckless abandon of mind so 

Coveted in youth, curious and without fear

Yet I look back and think these

Do still have effect on my life

Only that I have left them so far behind

They are often deemed insignificant

One droplet of water on the glass

Trying to sneak inside, rarely means rain

Easily swiped away with a finger

My memories of time like sand

Carried in pockets and corners of bags

Clinging and reminding, only to

Shift away as I grasp for answers

Impossibly small and evasive

I come to the odd conclusion, slouched

Over the edge of my bed by the PC

That if I can’t reach backwards I

Must be handling the moment I am in

Hands cold all evening

Three stories high watching the moon

Rise, wishing distantly you had been free

As I think a little more I see I’m only

Living, and

If I have no need to look back

The last look over the shoulder in a

Grey and silver movie

Then why should I?