How extraordinary, to be able
To avoid retelling the same fable
Over and over again. Most people
Paint the same landscapes on the same easel,
Like goldfish gliding past the same castle,
As if it weren’t always there, en plein air.
Try to recall your childhood. Seems simple
At first, doesn’t it? At first, you’re nimble.
Anecdotes you’ve told for years just tumble
Out of your skull. Then you start to mumble
Past those familiar few, and you stumble
Through scarce ghosts of you, finding nothing new.
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