What bothers you
is the flow of IV fluids-

like reruns of the humid
air in the month of December.

Then, you remember something
less of words spoken

and more of a pain that
tracks the shutters of your heart.

By tomorrow, everything
will be ordinary-

the scent of roses, chocolates
and love letters.

I, too, remember the flow
of IV fluids-

fast enough to wash
away memories.

1 comment:

jj said...

passing through....