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Greg Braquet

Arteries The Hard Way

"My memories are not what they used to be,
Or so my memories keep telling me."

These ghosts inside me,
Sprout lives like squatters.

Dreaming, I hardly know myself
Then wake in other dreams.

Born twice in one life— I am my child
Rewound, and again forget my birth.

Walking evokes well placed
Deceptions...lost in a lost city.

Food does not tell me I am hungry;
I cannot remember to taste.

Reminiscence is devoured, sucked
Down a black universe.

These doors are playing tricks—
This is not my beautiful home!

Going in and out of life should be unsettling,
But my body does not seem to mind...
             to mind...
                   to mind...
Your face brings not one memory to mind...
Is your name, Beloved?

I throw out an odd look and
Catch it staring back, bewildered.

I could tell you about my family...
I could, just not today.

Déjà Vu is everywhere,
As I unlearn my way to puzzles.

Sometimes I find myself living
With incomplete strangers.

I have good days and bad days
Soon there will just be days.

Motor reflexes left on autopilot
Is not a bad way to crash and burn.

Hello. This is not my beautiful phone—
Now, that has a familiar ring to it.

©2005 by Greg Braquet

Greg Braquet exists in New Orleans, but like most poets, lives in a world of his own schmoosing. His poetry has appeared in such publications as The New Laurel Review, THEMA, The Tap Root Review, Lucid Stone, Desire Street, Poetry Life & Times, The Breath Magazine, Red River Review, The Pedestal Magazine, Pierian Springs, Tryst, Side Reality, The Adagio Verse Quarterly, The Little Green Tricycle, The Junket, Tin Lustre, L'Intrigue, Branches Quarterly, and Exquisite Corpse. He was a recipient of the Delirium Journal’s 2003 Choice Award.

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