Holiday from Memory

Most memories are useless
Or, if not useless, boring
Nevertheless. Poetry,

Storytelling, adventure,
Wish to fillet memory,
Leaving the feathery flesh,

The heavenly aroma
Of caught trout on the hot coals
In the hearth under the stars

On that perfect camping trip
In the grandest wilderness,
Alone with your new lover

That never really happened.
Even if for you it did,
However much edited,

There had to be, of that trip,
A lot of sweaty hiking,
Squatting behind trees to pee,

Setting up camp, breaking down
Camp, troweling dirt over
The ashes of last night’s fire.

And where did all those fish guts
Of your memories end up?
Entrails. Do you remember?