Sometimes the Past is Now
To know me is to not
For you or anyone else
The past hangs on a mail hook
Til the present sweeps it up and sighs
This is what makes sense
This is what makes me make sense
The cold, hard winters endured,
The constant mobility,
The crappy family ethics
The legacy of intellect over love
The insight feeds my knowing of me
Substance changes truths.
To know the past right here, right now
Keeps me from looking back.