Fog

Photographic memory.
Wordsmith tongue.
Spellbound captivator.
I am none.

Fog- Rolls in and out.
Sticks to my windshield when turning around.
Layers onto my rear view mirror.
Taunts me when I'm thinking back.

Fog- Puts me in neutral.
-With engine at high rpm.
-Expecting to speed forward.
-But needing past tools to go on.

The name of that co-worker I met down the street.
The last jingled-song from the radio- can't quite get it named.
The antics my siblings recite about me, from when I was a boy.
I should remember them. I should remember most.
But I sense they are wrapped tight in cocoon,
And quite hidden inside some distant forest,
Not able to shed accurate dates, times, or mileposts quickly.
Making the chopping too long for my dull ax.

One quick-recall, relied on into adulthood, noticeably passes.
Perhaps blamed on too much life-thought concern.
Or too much unnecessary parental worry.
But now- I think this could be something more.

Could be that crack in the ice I hit when a boy. Bam on my head. I bet that's what I did!
Or a last drink from the bar in my teenage years. Yes, could be too much beer in one year.
Or perhaps a past memory so dark- It may have black-holed the rest!

Some say one's misfortune may be a trade off for another of life's blessings.
I can buy that if true.
For I have numerous blessings.

Seems I won't solve my mystery, until lifetime's end.
Well, heads up guardian angel. When that day arrives, shout me the answer!
For less time might remain on that day than I think.
Some say it goes quick- I could be gone in one wink.