garden bar 4.27.18

You remember
Right?
Everything fades.
All memory
Rests on the precipice.
She walks with purpose–
She reads Ghost World–
She eats a salad.
This will be nothing
In 1,000 years.
This will not exist.
Your brain is loose
With information.
She wears Christmas colors.
Your life as long
As an atom’s mass
To a black hole.
She turns the pages–
She ignores everyone.
When we are gone
Instead of monuments
There will be bones
In the dirt.

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