it starts with life and moves to memory

It starts with a life and moves to memory. The hollow point in your stomach is too much to relive with different expectations. The surgery of the mind is that kind of surgery; it ends in false memories, it ends when you find yourself on the floor, in your underwear, in a blank space called your mind. There, in your most vulnerable state is your father staring at you as you plea for a distant memory. (He seemed fine before he became your father, maybe far-flung and invincible, unlike you.) And then you settle. You settle too much, like sediment settles when the ocean draws back --drawn down in bubbles until your recollections are too deep to fathom. This all seems contrary to you now, as if, when you were a small child you considered golden thoughts in a golden future. Were these thoughts away from your father, possibly with a friend, somewherere in secret? Were they near him, maybe lying on his chest, listening to his strong heart? It is hard to believe that you could be here, now, alone and naked, and soft in the tummy in this blank space without father. --The tragedy of this world is that I lie down in forgetful sadness