Those words, that memory

people keep saying
the most extraordinary things,
fodder for poems,
one avenue to eternity,
the written word
posted for all to see.
those who have heard
and understood will remember
that exact moment,
the mood, the weather,
who said it, whether they
were with their best girl,
or just a random crowd of
acquaintances, whether
the wine was good, or if
it hailed that particular day.
The season, maybe the month.
the locale.
The impressions of a memory
previously embedded onto
parchment by the human hand,
now electronically rendered
may not have the same tactility
but memories do not distinguish
the tactile from the collection
of neurons firing in the exact
sequence which recalls the
extraordinary thing that someone
said in passing,
just in passing.