“The time will come when no man nor woman will be able to endure 
on borrowed light. Each will have to be guided by the light within 
himself.” – Orson F. Whitney

I saw a meteor
red and spectral in the dark
telescoping down through
layers of atmosphere
as if through tiers of a birthday cake 
in celebration of nothing, the universe
its own transcendent event. 

The precise descent of a falling star 
onto the vinyl sky, scratching
like the needle of a record player
brought forth the sound of faint
yet lively music, a funeral march
to remind us how fast
we are spinning.

I got closer and witnessed
the trailing ember of my eye
was all reflection, a stoplight on the water
tower’s edge. It glowed like fire,
a tipping torch inclined toward earth.
Had a true comet been sailing by
it would have made no difference.
                        

When the day of the week
slips from your mind
like falling printer paper
from a busy brain, 
I will remind you.

And when you miss
some things on the shopping list,
I will bring them over
in a drawstring bag.

But when you can’t recall 
the conversation we had
over the phone this morning,
I will tell you it’s a surprise
so you will wait
and not worry.

When you forget my name,
I will thank you 
for giving it to me. 
I will hold onto it from here.

And when you finally forget your own name,
I will let you be someone new
in the space just before remembering. 

I will meet you in memory.