published in Staple, 1988

Selective Memories

I recall you tall, fantastically fit:

Watching you kick a ball, hair curled

Sweat-beaded forehead, oh, the smell of it.

Now you are old and weary

Shoulders round, figure too

Your face is jowled, anger with the past

You keep inside except

That odd sarcastic barb.

Out come the photographs

Phantasies, selective memories

“Did Mizzi die?

I can’t imagine it.”

“Remember Uncle Max? he gave that party

Where my parents met but that was long ago

You haven’t changed a bit.”

I loved you young and poor

Now you are old and rich

We tell each other lies

We haven’t changed a bit.

Anne Kind

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