This Is Memorial Device

by David Keenan

Really, I might just as well have joined the mujahideen.

I’m sorry to say, because to me that’s what those tits said, bring on adventure, a thumb in the eye of fate

me wild, I get a sense of vertigo and I feel myself falling forward and a sense of anxiety comes over me and I lose control of my thoughts, though really it’s more like falling backwards, into the past, a past that isn’t even there any more, because it was a true romance, I’ve had plenty of relationships

We invent endings, really, which is what it says to me. There is no resolution, no fixed beginning, no neatly tied-up end. People have tried to read into it so much, but it was just a moment, passing.

and a black V-neck T-shirt

Do we ever experience that between state, the movement between X and Y? Are any of us any the less stranded? Isn’t every act, every moment, every setting in play an act of blind faith based on limited examples?