Flipping through pages
Lined and plain, bound and looseleaf
Dotted and watermarked
Marked only by the passage of time
Each and every one a portal to the past
Running your fingertips across the dried ink like
Following your own Dewey Decimal
Knuckles clicking across the spines
Until the correct record is found

A warning for new users, however
While each record’s veracity can be confirmed,
Their utility cannot
For every page that recalls a moment
Worthy of remembrance, there are three others
That do the opposite
Nights full of writhing pain, isolation, rejection
The beginnings of pieces that died in their infancy
A failed food journal, maybe even
The first draft of a permanent farewell

If you’re going to plumb these depths
We recommend a holistic approach
Don’t skip the stupid jokes, the silly sketches
The Post-Its with grocery lists
Digestive enzymes, eggs and AA batteries
With the numbers of cute strangers
Rose, the one with commando boots and lavender highlights
Who you will never speak to again
Allow the pages to illuminate, not discourage
With their cyclical nature and repetitive themes
Lay them flat on the carpet and suspend yourself
From the ceiling fan, to see
The forest through the pulped trees

Sometimes it’s not the tomato sauce
That’s bothering you, but rather
The threat of civil war, martial law,
Environmental devastation
To quote page 27, and your trendy supervisor
“Give yourself the grace you would afford others”
Thanks, Tammy