A False Infinity

Is your memory a circle,

or a trip straight out and back


A beginning and an ending,

or one continuous track


Do you see the same things going up,

that you pass when coming down


Is retention sealed and programmed,

by things going round and round


Without an ending where you stop,

or perhaps just one last verse


You rewind backwards to square one,

the past again rehearsed


This flux of motion holds you tight,

your perception never free


Serving both to mislead and to lie

—in a false infinity


(Seattle Washington: March, 2017)

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