FORMATION
 
I breathe in a smell from long ago of a warm summer day…
I am outside in my pajamas.
My father is in the garden.
It is close to bedtime and the air!  Good Lord!  The air!
Was the air really like that back then?
Electrical impulses careen down axons
            and are thrown into synaptic endings.
I am sitting on the picnic table playing with matches.
The tablecloth goes up in flames.
My father comes racing over.
Good job, Dad!  Thank God!
Neurotransmitters jettison across the synaptic space
            and are gobbled up by membrane receptors…
I'm watching Speed Racer.
Go Speed Go!
Oh, how I love Speed Racer!
Memories are whirling through my head like old photos swirling in the air.
Oh, to go back!  To breathe that air.
Go Speed Go!
 
 
A version of this poem first appeared in Café Eighties Magazine, 1997.