It is Summer. Paul is cold.
His spine shivers. His ribcage rattles.
His shallow breath
suffocates his heart’s fire.
He will not share this memory
with you, or anyone,
because he has not yet shared it
with himself.
He was in his thirties
when the memory began to emerge.
Somehow genetics knows
only an adult can process certain experiences.
If only the release of this memory
did not have a time stamp,
forcing Paul to relive it again as though
he was four to seven years old.
How his logical mind fights the process
with adult suppression techniques
such as blended whiskeys, work
and over-the-counter medications.
His left arm trembles
as he reaches for the latest miracle cure
which is the booted foot
kicking the can farther down a long road.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 