One Does Not Remember

 

I wrote a murder mystery called THE MURNGIN BOOJUM.

No, THE MELANESIAN GAMBIT.  I made cat’s cradles

out of cobwebs.  And then what?  And then what?

And then this.  We get old.  We can’t remember.

Maybe I did it.  Maybe I made it up.

Owen and Jean are coming down

with Ella and Eb.  We’re going

to keep them for the weekend.

I think the beach is closed

to fishing.  There’s still fresh seafood

in the local restaurants.  Still oysters.

 


 

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