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<h1 class="title">Riptide of memory</h1>
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<p><span class="line">Inside of my memory, the poem is another memory.</span><span class="line">The air up here is thin, but the wind blows harder</span><span class="line">than anywhere else I know. It threatens to rip</span><span class="line">my body away, like <a href="angeltoabraham.html">an angel of death</a>, to the stars.</span></p>
<p><span class="line">In Arizona, I thought I would forget the rain,</span><span class="line">forget its sound on a roof like a hard wind, forget</span><span class="line">its smell like a far away ocean. Luckily for me</span><span class="line">it rains here. Luckily, because I forget too easily.</span></p>
<p><span class="line">In a dream, <a href="father.html">my father is caught by a riptide</a> off-shore.</span><span class="line">He’s pulled far out, far enough that the shoreline’s</span><span class="line">a line in his <a href="ouroboros_memory.html">memory</a> on the horizon. I can see him</span><span class="line">swimming, hand over hand, pulling his small weight</span></p>
<p><span class="line">back to land. I see him as <a href="shipwright.html">another shipwreck</a> victim,</span><span class="line">coughing sand and seawater, beard woven with seaweed.</span><span class="line">I see him lying there a long time. I see all this</span><span class="line">as he tells me the story, years later, the riptide</span></p>
<p><span class="line">only a <a href="one-hundred-lines.html">ghost</a> in his memory, I only a child falling</span><span class="line">asleep. My mother’s making mayonnaise rolls</span><span class="line">in the kitchen, a recipe I’ll send for years later,</span><span class="line">in Arizona, in the monsoon season, when my thirst</span></p>
<p><span class="line">pulls me back home, my memory’s lonesome twinkle</span><span class="line">like <a href="finding-the-lion.html">stars above the mountains</a>. I’ll send for it</span><span class="line">and try to make them, but in the thin air they’ll</span><span class="line">crumble into dust like desert air, like a memory.</span></p>
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