Strange

It’s strange what we remember.

Like that dinner we had
at Ruby Tuesday’s–
chicken Caesar salads
and hamburgers
in a chain restaurant
I had never heard of.
Now it has this glow
when I hear a commercial
for this place I went once
on a night in the ancient past
where you took me places
where waiters smiled
and snapped our photo.
A memory of an ordinary night
where I felt anything but ordinary.
And you probably don’t remember it.
Or that drive on the coast
or me taking your photo
as you pumped gas,
something that doesn’t happen
in Oregon.

It’s odd what we remember. 

Like the light casting shadows
on your cheek
as I told you I loved you.
I remember that Al Green song
and an old 90s R&B ballad
that I’ll never stop listening to.

It’s funny what we remember.

You imagine that night
I first took you home with me,
lying together
until the morning of your last day.
I still see you walking away
and the blue jacket you wore.

We remember
but we never see
the same moment.

We remember
but differently.

It’s so strange.

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5 thoughts on “Strange

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