Slowly
it returns
the mental image
the bodyprint emanating from
my brain
I was sitting in the beige chair
and I turned my head, looking
toward the kitchen table and the printer
wedged behind the twirly office chair.

That’s it. There’s nothing more.
If the memory file exists, it’s lost.
misplaced. locked with keys thrown
into the dumpster or very deep
into untamed forests.