Play Mat

This is one of those poems where today
I came across an unspecial image
or scene and it reminded me of a
long forgotten memory, and in my
writing them down—the juxtaposition
clearly being so profound—I promptly
discovered, uncovered, whatevered a
special and now unforgettable
aspect of life or truth or myself and
I had to share it with everyone
else or risk it not being real after
all, which would be a complete shame, and I
would only have myself to blame. Oh yeah:
a play mat; my lost racecars; growing old.

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