Remember Me

Two real reasons exist why footprints like these are left imprinted in a sidewalk.  The first is that someone did not notice or was not aware of the recent pour.  Perhaps the day was rain soaked and they did not want to walk in the water filled gutter or on the tired macadam surface next to the sidewalk.  It happens. 

The other reason is that because perhaps jokingly or even unthinking the trespasser stepping into the unset surface wanted to be remembered.  Instead of carving a name and a year this trekker made a bold statement one that says I was dominant here remember me.  Those tennis shoeprints say things like “think about me and the reasons why I did this”. 

For a time the unknown strider will have a little piece of immortality.  His time will be short.  His permanence is fleeting.  Unless some Midwestern volcano erupts preserving the sidewalk in ash to be discovered in another 2000 years by those following us, that aggregate will succumb to water and wind in less than 100 years.  More likely it will succumb to a site plan revision in less than 20 cycles around the sun.

If the creator of those footprints wasn’t just in a hurry on a rainy day oblivious to the plastic sheeting on this route, he would have been better served by writing a poem.  Mr. Neruda will probably still be studied in a 100 years.  The sidewalk will be crushed up and perhaps used again.  Words win out over all but a few of the plastic arts. Yes this is a nod to the cave of Altamira.

 

If You Forget Me

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.