Random Access Memory

Down by the river,

on that hillock by the Coquet,

the first place I saw a kingfisher.

Halcyon days.

Inside the village church

at the end of the pew,

in case I should need escorting out:

mischief pays.

A large hotel room

by the blackened-sandstone station,

where I learned the loving and the

leaving ways.

These places come to me now,

as I go to them, from where I sit...

In a plastic chair,

in front of plastic and metal:

the last place to inspire the writer,

dogma says.