The Poem Series About Fall 2005 Carries On

 September 8, 2005
Had an enjoyable evening to myself last night except for the fact that

The whole time a part of my mind was always thinking
of the next thing
I did not much like this
Maybe it makes sense while making dinner
to look forward to eating dinner
(yummy white mac and cheese in the big blue bowl)
But while eating and reading at the table I’m thinking “and then I’ll take a bath”
while in the bath “and then I’ll get in bed”
while in the bed “and then I’ll have some ice cream”
Why look forward to the next pleasure when the current pleasure is actually happening?
Your actual life
the ever-elusive
Moment
they’re always talking about
is happening
and you’re not in it
What a waste of a perfectly good present
The future will get there whether you tell it to or not
Do I think there’s any chance I’ll forget to eat the ice cream?

Also in my book there was a mention
of how well someone could recall a house after many years away
So I tried to think of houses I haven’t been in for years
And found I can float through the rooms of Granna and Geno’s in my mind
turning this way and that
remembering each nook each piece of furniture
as I proceeded on my mental tour from living room to dining room, kitchen, hallway, bathroom,
to the room that I slept in
the room that I thought of as mine
I realized that
beyond remembering how the rooms looked
the exact texture of the grit on the windowsill
the type and kind of heat
I could smell them
I don’t mean I could remember the smell
I mean I found the scent of those rooms in my nose as I lay on my bed in San Francisco in 2005
It’s been fifteen years since I was in that house
like Proust’s Madeline in reverse
something physical summoned up out of the air

image source is here