“I never wanted to do this in the first place. I wanted to be . . . a lumberjack!” — Monty Python

Dipping Into the Stream of Lost Memories

I buried the bird
In a quart-milk carton,
Near the old stone garage,
Down from the pump house,
Where we got the best water
You could find
In three-counties:
Bedford, Somerset & Cambria.

Can’t recall
Why the bird died,
Or even what kind it was.
(Parrot probably.)
Why recall its burial place?
Because one day I’d planned to dig it up
& gaze upon its perfect Skeleton.
(Never did.)

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