A brightly colored room is both loud and quiet The light colors are sins in my eyes.
In the front there is a dark mass, a slow moving line.
I have already had my turn.
In the bright room there is a basket.
Surrounded by paper and fancy pens.
Share a memory, it says.
Which one? I snap back.
I stare at that paper and think.
One person in this overcrowded
over heated room could fill dozens
of these baskets with their memories.
Why are we being forced to choose one?
My hand flies over the paper,
Spiting out word after word in chaotic script.
The sentences flow off my brain and to the page,
Some phrases occasionally catching in my mind.
Lobsters, strip poker, glow sticks, Time warp, Johnny Depp, Scooby gang, bite marks, babysitter.
Bottles of rum, hamster in pants, snapes, she shot your face, sleeping together, I remember, dunk me, Ducky Con.
Never Have I Ever, headlocks, just 3, Baldy, NO avatar, Roberta, DDR, the elevator….
So many, can't fit on the slip.
My hand is cramping.
I could have gone on forever.
They'll never be forgotten though
For now, some sit in that puny basket
Waiting with others to be read and remembered.
Never forgotten, just sitting, in that insignificant little basket, that now holds our hearts within.
The memories shall always stay.
I hope you recall them all, sitting up there on your cloud,
Reading over our shoulders almost falling off in your laughter, observing the minuet giggles escaping in the solemn room.