Paramnesia
There was a story that,
going around a corner,
the passenger door
of my uncle’s red
Mustang convertible
flew open,
and my cousin,
who was not
wearing a seat belt,
tumbled out of the car,
only to grab on
to the seat belt
he hadn’t been wearing
to stop himself
being hurled
to the pavement,
but I now think
I made this up.
/ / /
2 August 2023
Charlottesville VA
This is poem 12 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.
Comments