9.23.2012

Memorization

Something happened
earlier today,
something must've
happened today,
but I cant think of
it.

I'm trying to recollect
some funny quip,
or something,
I might've learned.
Memory is such a silly thing
for it's randomness,

you experience things so
vividly in the present,
    but never
remember trivial idiosyncrasies.

Like now,
  at the bar,
I smell limes, and now,
sawdust, listening to someone
talk about craftsmanship, and
remembering my grandfather's
workshop, where he worked
as a master carpenter,
repairing antique furniture
in his huge barn at an
Arts Guild.

The old vicious
jigsaw, intimidatingly
tall, a giant on the
right of the toolbench, waiting
for the next piece of rosewood.
The strewn slits of sandpaper,
notes on cardboard, ancient tools
like museum artifacts stuck to the
walls.

The gumball machine, where, as
children, we used to deposit quarters
in exchange for succulent mouthfulls
of radiant flavors globbing in our
mouths. The dull scent of sawdust
laying it's thin veil
over the whole shop,
and my grandfather's laugh reverberating
off the tall ceiling,
vibrating cobwebs,
echoing in our chests as he
leaned back in his chair,
then slapped my uncle on the
back, making him
drop his rolled cigarette
on the floor.

He dusts it off, laughs,
as we all laughed,
and lights his cigarette
with a match.

Sulfer smell and sawdust
   ... ah, the fading memories.

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