Megabytes

Sometimes I forget
chapters of my life.

I might dwell on
when my friend Eric

and I pushed each other
downtown in a box

mounted to a skateboard.

Everyone drank Coke
out of glass bottles.

For a moment,

all I can remember
is the glass bottles

and the grimy
back alleyways,

my bare feet
black as the streets

and hard like leather.

Then, it dawns on me
how ten years later

I dug a pit beneath
a twisted old pine bush

and traded in my freshman
year of high school

for something closer to earth.

I built a lot of fires
and spent more time with animals.

I felt more centered
in the star map of night.

Then, I remember
the summer of 2006.

I took my video camera
everywhere and documented everything.

When you crashed your Mustang
I just stared at the stars

until I forgot every chapter
we ever lived together.