without memory.
we're born
memory immediately
begins us.
who we are
is memory.
how can memory be lost.
the world is made of memory.
what world is this
without memory.
who are we.
mister stepped on this cicada
inert in the cool grass it buzzed
i picked it up and held it in the sun
it rode my finger across the park
and i placed it on a branch
of a honey locust in the sun.
so long little cicada. be safe.
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