Filing in step, careful to disturb,
Not the row of memories nor the silences
Between dreams, between prayers, but the
Tangle of numbers, half remembered rhymes,
Impressions before an accident, telephone voice freezing time with, 'Your father has died',
Departing bus promising loneliness and landscapes
fantastic with the mystery of dwellers whose lives
are defined by the tracks leading from the highway:
Each step measures forgetfulness as the next soldier
deepens the print for the next and the one after that
until the last row of boys climbs out of
history.
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