Forgetting

It is perhaps true
That the one thing I miss most
Is forgetting
What is to be forgotten
Once, not too long ago,
I sat on the J train patiently as
The begging man I come to know
As Bruce comes closer once still
And yet I recall Bruce less and less
He is not vivid anymore
Nor is the scene out the window of said J train
From Manhattan to Brooklyn
I forget which side the sun lights up first as we venture eastward to my
Home
coming out of the dark still tunnel at
Essex/Delancey
I forget the smell of you taking me home
And I forget the kiss we had as the train hit the stop closest to your
House,
we both knew it wasn’t that close but the J train was mine
And the L yours.
I am hungry not for old love or old smells
Just of forgetting – I miss this only
I will be on the 101 freeway ever losing site of
What I ever wanted to forget