Imaginary Memories

 

Within, a sequence:

“storking” to the basket,

strumming the Gibson,

scrolling through the Zune,

concert tickets from a radio show,

and an essay in binary code.

 

These are the postulates

individually, collectively

the proof of your uniquity.

 

The square root

of negative one equals “i.”

 

To Cyril’s dismay, you were never one

to show your work. But it would appear —

the correct answer, always correct.

Thumser took it more in smile, recognizing

in your back-row smirk the type

of defiance only talent allows.

 

You were the only one that understood.

You knew then, intuitively, and I know

now, more definitely. There is evidence…

 

Earlier this year, we met for the first time

in over half a decade. Amusingly,

you are showing your work everywhere

now. Television, the web, even numbers

hovering in Martian airspace.

 

Near the beginning, you said to me

“You’re married now…” “I’m proud of you,”

I offered toward the end, awkwardly.

I know you understood.