Inner Dialogue

I hear scenarios playing in my head

Of conversations with you or without you

Anyone really

Anticipating next encounters

With dialogue that sparkles and dances

But disappears into the dark abyss of that mine called memory

Sometimes I’ll bring something back

A memory of a chance encounter

I rerun the scene editing out the bad bits

Take two, take three

Cues up the inner dialogue again

Then for a second I rewrite history

Imagining futurepasts and might have beens

Instead of the present where reality intrudes to tie my tongue

The present, where my verbal gift is reticence

I try to be in the moment

But not necessarily this one



David Trudel   © 2013



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