by Todd Mercer
I can’t get amnesia when it would mean relief,
but it sure sets in while driving, or when it’s time
to reassemble a six-cylinder engine, a lawn tractor,
sewing machine, gas furnace, computer in reverse of the order
it was confidently broken down. Good luck
forgetting the few items currently preventing
this stay on earth from being a slow summer idyll.
A memory has its own neurotic ticks.
It isn’t much at co-operation. I’m the dummy
with eyeglasses perched on the forehead,
tearing up the domicile to find them. I don’t mind
to waste an hour I’ll never have back
hunting for car keys while clutching
said keys in my non-searching hand.
I had wisdom to share on amnesia,
but I’m drawing blanks since you’re asking.
It’s here, give me a minute. Where is my coffee?