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Forgotten


The day Salinger meets history
we meet SOLITUDE -
…we confront disconnection:
our irises shuttering within
eyelashed memories
flapping between each blink.
- Let him laugh in our face.
The ducks in Central Park
glide along ‘til…
winter’s breath
freezes eternity.
Where will they go
when the pond freezes over?
I fear it will be
NOWHERE…
Air particles beyond the naked eye
DIFFUSE, DISSOLVE, DISINTEGRATE
as the stopped watch pulsates
within an oiled baseball glove.
The pond is frozen
- What I dreaded most
Yet, at some point, do we become
a Catcher in the Rye
between the paralyzing cries
that escape our infantile
spasms?
- I am bound
to the nakedness of my molecular
atoms.
The ducks waddle aimless
as the months roll down their sleeves.
And Holden Caulfield can’t cross
the street.
