days shove past each other
one after the next
all just one stretch of time
sometimes sleeping
but mostly not
all I can hold onto are these disconnected, random moments
that I recall
moments from that time
that time before I went insane
insane from your overdose of silence
moments from before I went numb
picking out pastries with you through a steamy glass window
in mid October
it was snowing, I think nature was confused
as I am now
doing cartwheels in the gas station parking lot
at eleven at night
there was a blanket of stars mocking us
tempting us to forget that we can't fly
you offered me your coat
and there are more yet
more moments
jumping on your bed to wake you up
these little flashes
and bursts
memories
happy moments
that are as far from me
as those pastries on the other side of the fogged glass
or the stars that sprawled on infinitely above us
memories peppering my gray existence
with flecks of color
like the golden specks on the rug in the hall
from when we painted the living room
and I danced with the broom
and you got the hard-to-reach corners
memories of a time when I had someone else to talk to
besides my self