mister woke me gently with a soft cry and i silently dressed and we  went out. he stared at me on the lawn until i said something, like what are we doing out here in the night.

memory is abridged
no memory 
is a bone tunnel
a mountain past
inside
our memory is 
not the same
old memory

the sunlight drained and the fog covered us. we walked with a stranger in a memory of swimming in fog like this, guided by the dog, imagining circles and figure eights and a further shore unknown to us in watery fog.

  i was talking with marie from paris when the teeth of a strange dog punctured the night.