a while back
my father called me
seven times in two days
presenting me with
the very same question
twenty-seven years
his younger
my long-term memory
remains (seemingly) in
pristine condition
—but what will come of me
in the short-term
eludes me
that is until the next call
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
how dare you forget
she reminded herself
having come to terms
with how easily
it’s become
to not remember
in the back of her mind
she knew he’d never forgot
about the why or where or when
he just needed a little push
an incidental nudge
to make him think things through
circling back to a time
when reaching a certain age
doesn’t seem
to hold as much weight
as it does today
december two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve
the beer cans used to be blue or
purplish-blue
but now they’re gold with a splash
of lavender…it’s all very confusing
I went to the grocery store to purchase
some stamps and a lottery ticket
and pick up a twelve pack of that
beer in gold cans and
lavender lettering
when I got home and walked into the house
(by way of the garage)
the dog stared at me from my favorite chair
his ears lit up like some stupid jack rabbit
oh son-of-a-bitch I say to the jack rabbit
I forget to pick me up
some of that damn beer
august two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
left in the shadows of her siblings
she fell fast asleep in the back seat of daddy’s suv
out of sight and out of mind
the very idea of tomorrow never
entered her most wildest of dreams as she breathed
the shallowest baby breaths
locked inside this man-made trap
a busy world revolves around her curiosities
her arms reaching for the sky
focused on a happy ending
she wills the glass to break into million of pieces
men dressed in red rehearsing
to set her free
may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I stood in the kitchen dumbfounded
body leaning toward the counter
my arms stretched out
my hands gripping the edge
preventing me from falling straight down
once again short-term memory gaps
have poked holes into my productivity
the interruption of progressive thoughts
leading me down avenues of days long gone
like when I wore batman capes
and had real conversations with the mailman
I remember once when I was five
on an early sunday morning
all alone in the great room watching cartoons
my body laid out with elbows on the carpet
and chin resting inside my hands
when all of a sudden a dull clash
resonated from the kitchen and slowly
bounced it’s way into the great room
I dared not move one iota
as I stared into the kitchen
tall shadows moved about the inner walls
no doubt cast by the breeze nudging the evergreens
but I was petrified nonetheless
and hid like a stone waiting to be found
march two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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