I had a great picture for the poem tonight
a shot of me, in the distance, climbing a dirt path,
a beautiful view of the mountains in France in the background.
I sent it to the blog three times and it never showed up
as if to tell me that the past can never be reconstructed.
a moment gone by, etching neural pathways that
may or may not stay intact as the ever passing
experiences overlay them.
will I remember this view of the French Alps,
the pathway on which I struggled,
loose gravel when I was seeking pavement,
I think so, but maybe not,
especially without the picture
that won't load.
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