She can’t remember anything, Spanish guitar 

        rest stop sand, British invasion – the clank 

clank clank of the gold door lock, a truck.

She can’t remember anything, salt-water taffy, 

metal flashlights, corn silk and hot garage loft.

Every pup worth a fight, an argument, watching them go. 

She can’t remember anything, shrieking, “Get the fuck

     out of my car” and simultaneously damp wet wind 

nailing her fingers to the door handle.

I found it between Oh – Pa – Pa and the Phonebooth-

Two poems and the small paper fortune. 

I fan the book, it’s gone.  So much lost, so much lost.

It’s amnesiatic, mind frozen, all moments gone.