Forget

You do realize that I must forget you.

Just leaving you isn't quite enough.

I must erase you from all memory,

all association, all manner of remembering.

It is imperative in this mission

that I discard all things that remind me of you.

The letters, the conversation, that word

and for that matter even that particular

expression. I am told that it isn't easy.

I also have it on good authority, from

poets, writers and such types that it is

practically impossible. But what do they

know of me. I am rather determined to

forget you. In fact yesterday for all of two

minutes while the meal over cooked and I

fed the fish and the neighbor of mine

knocked on the door, I didn't think of you at all.

Tomorrow, I intend to make myself useful.

Plant a herb garden in a pot, for example, and the

day after I might trek up the Everest

and back. Forgetting you is going to be easy.

Writing about you and mourning your absence

I leave to a certain sham artist who is rather persistent.