waiting for something to happen,
waiting for something more to happen,
i chose not to be recognizing
that everything had happened,
and i was free, and i am free.
why did i forget?
why do we forget?
i remember why.
i am a bozo on this bus
that travels on the earth,
each bump on the road
a spurring of a remembering,
a next bump on the road
a jolting of a forgetting.
