I wish I had a Time Machine
I wish I had a Time Machine
I pulled out that one book I was reading
At the bar. A second time. I had taken a break
I laid my head down, gently.
The restaurant was quiet, The life
Had escaped. Somehow, you were
Behind me, poking my back.
Helen at the bar? You teasingly
Asked. You sat down, the table
To my right. I felt comfortable
Knowing you were there, beside me.
The memory fled south, to my heart.
It's one of those
I wish I had a time machine. Memories.
You know the ones? If you had the instructions
To build a machine that took you back
To that certain frame, dimension, speck of time
You would.
I'm reading that book again, noticing now
The Guinness dried on the cover
How my thumbprints left dents in the pages
The old post-it note forgotten in a random,
Overlooked chapter.
Maybe this time around I’ll finish it.
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