A Testimony

Why do I still remember?

Perhaps the beauty
of madness

in a sanatorium
by the water,

rage over
a stolen suitcase,

going lost
in city streets,

a marriage with
promise that
broke like glass.

Somehow still
a city of fondness

long after
the darkness.

Now I look out
windows and see

maybe a forgotten life,
maybe a new one

to be found
in talking

to a therapist
paid like a madam

to listen
and preach,

diving into
this mindlessness

and deep

until there is
new beauty
along the water

reflected like glass.