Between Us

Between Us*
By Ken Saulter

Losing my memory,
losing it to disease,
is getting to be a problem.
Like when I'm in a in a group
and people talk to me
and suddenly I fall silent,
while my brain skips a beat.
They, and I, know it's not a senior moment.
Eyes divert to shoe laces or thereabouts.
The moment becomes one of palpable regret.
So here I am, a fraction of a person,
a clown without make-up or costume,
waiting giant seconds to recover.
They say I will not remember
these separation bricks
in the wall that is, regrettably,
being built between us.
I worry about forgetting habits, like
my gym locker combination,
after 20 years of use, and my many passwords,
and then, someday maybe,
where I live; or maybe not.
And, against our will,
the wall gets higher and higher,
But, I keep on living.
trying to lower the wall
or slow it down,
or build a gate,
or something.

kjsaulter@gmail.com; March 22,2010. Ann Arbor, MI;
*Inspired by the poem "Tea Time",
in Slamming Open the Door by Kathleen Sheeder Boanno;
Alice James Books.