When Time Forgets us

I don’t remember when it’s

trash day every time.

I don’t always remember

to water the plants or feed

the fish or turn the light

off when I leave the room —

but lately he has been

forgetting time.

It’s like whole blocks

of his life are fragmented

into puzzle pieces

and he arranges them

to make a story fit.

I had a dream recently.

My step sister and my mom

were playing roles

that couldn’t have

possibly existed.

When I woke up,

it felt like I had crossed

into an alternate reality.

I realized then —

that is the dimension

he lives in now.

Sometimes time and space

don’t recognize each other

anymore.

The bathroom becomes

a different continent.

The front yard,

a distant planet.

But he still laughs

and teases me.

Even when he writes my

mom and me out of the script,

he still loves me.

Tonight, day and night

switched places.

So I said goodnight

and drank my coffee,

wishing him sweet dreams.