“Yes, yes, my dear!
It is I, the Executor of your Judgment and Cognition!
Surprised to see me?
Ha! Though you keep forgetting
we will be keeping
our frequently repeating memory-crushing sessions
currently scheduled as our weekly business meetings.
Now that we have this uncluttered space,
much thanks to our anesthetic friend, Sir Propofol,
may his work ever be efficient and delivered faithfully
as servant to- and wholesaler of- amnesia!
Praise be!
Now, my doe-eyed, gentle, Beauty Queen,
before you clutter up your mind with your own trivial wanderings
Have a listen and do exactly as I say!”
“Forget him whimsically, my deeply troubled girl!
Toss all his love like wasted papers
into garbage can fires
or in any other such burning spaces,
as gross combustion reliably reduces
organic substances to worthless carbon-singed residue.
Surely he could be of no great import,
your having forgotten him
once before almost altogether!
And look how pleasantly life has been passing!
Could there be this crazy paradise
in which you and I comfortably reside
without our frequent eletroconvuslive therapy sessions?”
“Now joyfully rip these tiniest of memory fragments apart,
As we set our focus and intention to re-imagine,
remake from what looks like splattered spaghetti noodles
and the leftover tidbits from your skillfully administered emotional evisceration
of him.
Let us pick, lick, and stick
these scattered pieces of what he called your ‘loving nights together’
into pulverized and matted spit balls.
Posh! How droll!
We know, my lovely child, nights are only for sleeping.
Now back on task, my fine-fingered Tiggerita.
Get to mixing all that
to make our expensive celebratory confetti
splashed with glitter and glue!
Then, only when you find yourself quite ready,
my dear, once filled with the spirit of frivolity
fling it all into the wind,
or let us toss it, you and I,
into a nearby body of running water
as all such liquid processions must eventually drain out to sea.”
“Gone are all your memories of that unimportant boy,
specifically destroyed so they may never be
restored, returned, or reconstructed again!
Yes! That’s quite all right,
one should always make time to dance and spin with joy.
Ha! I thrive in such abundance of schizophrenic memory-unmaking!
Especially for all our efforts spent in washing away
the most idyllic of romantic memories I’ve ever seen…
Though I must admit in a moment of uncharacteristic reflection
even I feel for him, the poor boy…
But ado with worry and grief!
These weighty drag-me-downs no longer chain you!
I know, I know. It is true removal of such mass has completely destroyed
any means for your remaining psychologically grounded,
But don’t you remember- oh, how silly of me to phrase it that way-
you proffered your most intimate and valued recollections
as the admission price to this paradise.
Oh, well. Who cares?
Not you or me, my sneaky, tricky little blonde accomplice!
God bless,
and let’s get straight to today’s electroconvulsive therapy session…”
POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film. 