Now I Remember

forget-me-not flowers

Forget-me-nots

Let’s assume, just for the sake of theory, not that this could have happened to you, that you fell in love with someone and then it wasn’t as perfect as you thought it was going to be.

Myself, of course, I’ve only read about such things. But theoretically, suppose you were in love with someone, and it was the best thing you have ever known in your life, and yet…at the same time it was like being dragged to death behind a Roman chariot. Would you want to remember it or forget it?

What does the mind do with such emotional whirlpools of memory? Truly, isn’t such an experience, whatever the topic may be, an unavoidable part of being human? Maybe we try to remember the good parts and elevate them to some Holy Temple of Sweet Recall, while banishing the rest to that cerebral purgatory where things like high school go.

At any rate, we wish we could do that, control our memories so as to celebrate the good parts and drop out the rest. In this blog entry I’m brushing past that dilemma with a poem recently completed.

The Garden of Forgetting

Some days I think of walking down
to the Garden of Forgetting.
It runs along the river
with forget-me-nots and metal sculptures
by an Italian whose name I don’t recall.
The last time I went into the garden
I had been thinking about a splendid day
with a woman I was in love with.

Some days I think of walking down
to the Garden of Forgetting,
or did I tell you that?
It has paved walks and benches
where you can sit while everything slips away.
The last time I was there
I tried to remember a conversation,
but all that was left was how I felt
when I heard “we don’t belong together”.

Some days I think of walking down
to the Garden of Forgetting.
I don’t believe I’ve mentioned this before.
I was sitting on a bench there
looking at the strange sculptures,
and who knows where those came from.
In my mind I saw a street,
pleasant and shady, where I used to walk.
I had a feeling someone once walked with me,
yet when I recalled it,
I was walking alone.

There’s a garden in our town,
maybe you’ve heard of it,
called the Garden of Forgetting.
I’m thinking of going there.
I heard it’s beautiful.
If that’s true, I’d like to see it.
There’s nothing wrong with my apartment,
just little things that aren’t worth recalling.
I believe there used to be someone else here,
as it feels kind of empty now.
But I forget.

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2 Comments

Filed under Not Real Poetry

2 responses to “Now I Remember

  1. Carolyn Sherer

    Hi David – I’m sure you don’t remember me but we met through work at W. W. Norton once upon a time. I found your blog and have been reading it with interest and delight. Just wanted to let you know I loved the poem and sentiment of this post. I’m so glad your voice is as creative, clever and charming as I remember.

    Earnest, best wishes for success with your upcoming books! Carolyn Sherer

    From: Write or Take a Nap? To: carolynrsv@ymail.com Sent: Friday, January 23, 2015 7:14 AM Subject: [New post] Now I Remember #yiv6166566012 a:hover {color:red;}#yiv6166566012 a {text-decoration:none;color:#0088cc;}#yiv6166566012 a.yiv6166566012primaryactionlink:link, #yiv6166566012 a.yiv6166566012primaryactionlink:visited {background-color:#2585B2;color:#fff;}#yiv6166566012 a.yiv6166566012primaryactionlink:hover, #yiv6166566012 a.yiv6166566012primaryactionlink:active {background-color:#11729E;color:#fff;}#yiv6166566012 WordPress.com | David Hutto posted: “Let’s assume, just for the sake of theory, not that this could have happened to you, that you fell in love with someone and then it wasn’t as perfect as you thought it was going to be.Myself, of course, I’ve only read about such things. But theore” | |

  2. Carolyn,
    But I think I do remember you. I believe you were one of our traveling sales people, and we met at a sort of sales meeting at some kind of camp. Yes? If you are ever in Atlanta, maybe we could have dinner together.

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