WARNING SIGNALS

The keys I left on the dresser
that turned up in yesterday’s slacks.
Doctor’s phone number— tip of my tongue,
wasn’t his? Oh, yeah— that’s Jack’s.

The rubber band ready to snap on my wrist,
What did I put it there for?
I know it was meant to jog my mind
but it just doesn’t work anymore.

I drove here today, where is the car?
I always park close, can’t walk very far.
Oh, yes! I rode today with a friend,
who’s inside waiting—for our meeting to end.

I’m not hungry now, I seem to forget.
Was breakfast good, have I eaten it yet?.
I know I had toast, there are the crumbs,
No orange juice, I maybe ate plums.

Whatever hour, whatever day,
My most frequent words are,
“What did they say.”

 

Gus Daum

 

 

 

 

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About degus221

A Kansan who has migrated to Oregon.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Reflections and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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