of memory clears its burdens...
she hasn't thought of you in years --
wouldn't be able to pick you out
in a naked two-man lineup.
And so, what's
left? The thought, like trance,
of how her beauty moved you once --
how you'd blaze and melt, blaze and melt,
at the touch of her lingering hand.
2River View, 1_1 (Fall 1996)