Saturday Stream

I have passwords everywhere, lists of them, crossed out, erased, my mother’s maiden name, the sire of the dog that died, special numbers with hashtags, hidden places I’ll never forget but I forget them all, so I keep a list with old passwords crossed out like evictions, offenses committed in some other life, not mine, assuredly, I presume to be orderly, not make mistakes, never erase anything, etch things in stone, the passwords tattooed on my arms but I wear long sleeves to write over the truth, what was true then is no longer, it’s both pedestrian and harsh that nothing, not even words drawn from whimsy to be unknowable is permanent, durability a feature in scarves and tires but not in words which evaporate if you touch them too hard.

______________

Photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash