Days

Days Change

Shorter, longer,
Better and worse,
This day, that day,
They always blend to a year
or a decade.

What is it about That day,
That day you remember,
to the exclusion of a thousand other days?

What made it so special?
Is it the chemical in the protein soup of memory?
Or where you put the proteins in your brain of shelves?

And when someone remembers every day,
without forgetting one mundane detail,
Then maybe I can be happy,
I do not.

Been thinking a lot about proteins and memory again.
Complicated molecules,
Long protein chains, all spun up,
with smells, and sights,
feelings,
and what else can I not describe,
but that I remember?

What I remember in the day,
comes out in my sleep unscrambled sometimes.
Or is it day time scrambled?

These days,
darker days of October,
I remember these days best.