I stand, looking at a photograph I don't remember.
I am there, with others and no smiles; no... There is a false one.
It is a time that almost doesn't exist anymore.
I imagine myself making up a memory to fill in the photograph,
But even that is a stretch these days.
I'll make up my own memories when I start dreaming again.
My tin of memories still exists; intact after six years.
Ice skating, homecoming roses, concert tickets, movie stubs…
I fold my hands and wonder if there should be a fire of effigy.
