I Remember

I remember the crackle of rice paper letter harboring fine-edged words.
Japan seemed so far away.
I remember whiskey burning, nicotine fumes and gentle laughter.
Irish accent made Greyhound time race.
I remember New York held at bay by airport offering a cold plaster bed.
City coaxed, Dane-man beckoned . . . was denied.
I remember spittle in an oft-voiced tirade, stubborn refrain of sins imagined.
One more tangled conversation, phone line untied.
I remember sun creeping over granite and forest, heart under folded arms.
Shadow of sleeping indian.
I remember wind plastering snake-tendril’d hair to cheeks damp with rain.
Arms lift to lightening bolts in somber appeal.
I remember. I remember. I remember.
When will I forget?