i forgot to be cold again
and instead something else happened
i don’t know if
it was the kind of memory that one feels
or smells (like spray starch)
or something else
because i’ve never really had the kind
that people say is like
a picture in your head
(and what a cruel joke the universe can bestow…but i digress)
instead i simply felt the feeling on my face
as somehow the South Shore rumble rickety clickety
tumbled somewhere in my brain
the part that can’t be seen
but dammit
i know it’s there because
i forgot to be cold again
i forgot to be cold again
and the frosty leaves entombed in icy waves
unceasingly beguiled and captivated
the part of me that would get lost
and i can’t really say that
an image of Scotty comes clearly to me
but possibly the feel of his wiry coat
and the heat absorbed by prickly skin
tickled by ironweed, Queen Anne’s Lace
and most importantly cup plant
begins to scratch the surface since
i forgot to be cold again
i forget to be cold but when
the click of fingers on a keyboard
subtly matches the motion of wheels
on shiny tracks
or something i see on the pavement where
those long morning walks have led older feet
more times than a loner of a boy and his dog
can shake a stick at
a stick that no one needs to fetch
wait, what’s that thing in my hand
that i grip
a branch that i found
or a rope on a sled
at the top of Deming Park hill
guess
i forgot to be cold again.