The last thing I remember is a flurry of mayhem and images,
Then silence – and I’m alone.
With pink snow falling from a cloudless sky, wondering if this life was mine,
I wandered on foreign soil.
I’ve heard the battle cries and seen friends die.
Survived with glory, never knowing why.
I feel the pain of mental scars and try
To acknowledge living proof that you behold…or so I’m told.
The last thing I remember is swimming with sharks and running from bulls,
And fearless for bigger thrills.
I raised my fist to protest war, kicking up sparks and pushing the pulls
Of strange men who held the strings.
I crashed my car when ny streets went dark,
Then walked away as if I’d left my mark.
I followed Garbo’s ghost thru Central Park
Right to her doorstep – a secret I would hold…or so I’m told.
It’s all a blur of forgotten years, swirling like stars unaligned.
We reminisce, but the memories appear as imagined fiction while the facts unwind.
The last thing I remember is chasing moments and fleeting thoughts
Of places I had called home.
A frozen breeze hung from a limb, looking for missing pieces to fill
The puzzle worn on my face.
I’m everywhere, but nowhere in my head.
I’m dreaming life in someone else’s bed.
I’m given blood, but feel like I’ve been bled.
Everyone should have a life so rich and bold…or so I’m told.
The only thing I know for sure is I don’t know the last thing I remember.