the best memories

By Abby Karstrand

Sometimes the best memories

Are of nothing at all.

A blank

A lame, floating feeling

Carried along by guitar, fog, and whatever substance was around.

I feel like my dad.

I seem to forget how it felt

Seem to forget why I carry this fear

Seem to forget that I have judgement

Seem to forget that there is any moment outside the present

Seem to forget that you didn’t matter to me

Just a few months ago.

I grasp at a few lessons

From a few books

Written by adults who aren’t happy

And yet I still believe 

That I can be.

I forget what you did to me.

I forget why I’m mad.

I let my head roll back

And I search for the memory

For something to tell you

For something to share.

And now you matter to me.

But I’ll forget that too.