The Stories Now Left in Your Head

Most of these things don’t exist
Except as memories, and
The memories don’t exist

Except as words, but we try,
And if the result’s gauzy,
Inexact, inaccurate,

Confabulous, well, sue us,
As kids said in our hometown--
You don’t like it? So sue me!

Contentious bunch, kids with words,
Words circulating among
The kids, picking up the lint

Of their daily existence
Until, turning out pockets
For anything valuable

Years later, that’s all you get
From experience, words trailed
By clouds of glorious lint.