Evidence
Isn't it strange to find an unprompted memory,
as though we had opened a box or some hanging
file and found some small object (a turquoise ring,
a shell, or shoestring), some sunken artifact that
winks at us through the shifting silt. Nothing
glittering, nothing one would polish (we keep
those memories safe in the case and bring them
out for guests). Instead, something as common,
as everyday as an ink pen drawing on a canvas
shoe or the feel of bicycle gears shifting into place.
We only save so much, so we might wonder why
this small thing of all that has been lost? But now
found, we keep it, because it belonged to us.
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