Poetry

Memory Machine

Random poem I wrote in the same Political Science class. This one isn’t very good, though.

Rating: I agree, but it’s really the Windex that does the work

Memory Machine

Sun streams on green
it somehow takes me somewhere else
my body sits in this classroom
but my mind is with those I love
What are these memories inside my head
What do they mean?
I play them over and over
Movies in my head
Some of the camera shots are incredible
Too bad no one else can see them
Some of them make me so lonely
Some of them lift me up
Some leave me with regret
Some make me long for times yet to come
I am a memory machine
Constantly creating new ones
the factory in my head is running non-stop
sending movies to an empty theater
for me to watch
over and over
sometimes I wish it would just stop
so that I could enjoy the present
and stop trapping myself in my head
I wonder if anyone else is trapped
Do the cast of thousands think of me?
The movies will still play
but lately I haven’t watched them alone
maybe I do think too deep, but that’s who I am
he watches my movies with me
we laugh at parts, smile at parts
and learn from parts
the more I watch them
the more I realize
I have not been the lead throughout the course
of this lifelong production
I’ve only had a supporting role.

© 2004 Morgan Foster

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