For the twenty first time, Mr. Noname,
You are suffering from temporal amnesia,
the kindly doctor had said.
I hadn’t argued, but I knew that.
Nothing to do, nowhere to go
Food tasted strange
The people looked funny
A Turing machine in déjà vu mode
For a while I would stand at busy crossroads
Sit in airport lounges, hang about train platforms
Purposeful strangers, going to meet other purposeful strangers
Knowers and havers of identities
I now travel. Fuck amnesia.
The other day a tree almost recognized me
Last week a dog bit me, and I think I remembered my mother