THE MIND REMEMBERS WHAT
THE MEMORY FORGETS
Lest this go past us, I list a few
things - the counter-tops at the
morning windows, and my mother's
way of moving; the wayward white
duck I named Peter. He was a duck I
raised as my own, and I settled in with
him for a long, dull life - I hoped -
and then it all got too famous. Peter
following kids to school, getting thrown
out of the schoolhouse, barred and
scolded, as it were - a backward
sequence of time in my mother's
own crazy rhyme.
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