To not remember
Come September —
I've done all this before
But I have to forget
To imagine a future.
The arena has disappeared
Overnight — whatever it was
Turned to piles of sand.
I can't recall what feed store
Was on the billboard,
If there was a barn.
Whatever it will become
Will have to wait, for me
Because the sunset now
Has never before been seen
In such plum contours,
Islands of unlimited possibility.
The clouds moved in just for this,
To be taffy-turned in purple
And bubble-wrap popped to gold,
An appropriate ending
To what will never be again,
As we forget out of necessity
Tomorrow morning,
When we have to do it again
To another click of the moon
Without even the possibility
Of what the sky just made,
Too miraculous to even conceive.
