Memory Recovery

         for myself

A short lady, with short black hair
in a tiny white tank top, small breasts,
and no glasses, on aisle nine, drops a jar
of jelly or jam and our eyes cross.

Years ago, a lady like
her, but with less teeth, would visit my father
and he'd find twenty dollars, then they'd leave
for a "drive around the block."

One day as she steps from his car,
fixing her shirt's strap, she looks
into my bedroom window-

and something in their eyes is the same.

by Kevin Dublin

Email: kevdublin@gmail.com