Haibun 14

Lost Thoughts

 

Memory is fluid and fickle, but words on paper, a screen, or recorded on a smart phone have a strange ‘substance’, and we writers know this instinctively. But I am stumbling, it is so hard to explain this moment, and my perception of it, to anyone else, but I keep trying, and in less than seventeen syllables. Am I shooting for a miracle? The longer I try, the more doubt clings to each word. I am so frustrated, and now I just want to put this one behind me. But I just can’t stop thinking about it!

warm rain
mosquitoes follow me
into the men’s room

First published in:   A Hundred Grouds!

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