by Marc Evan
My outlet for creative energies and a place to take notes.
A veil that I could hide behind.
The protective shield between me and the world!
But still, the lens through which I see.
A constant companion:
From subways to mountaintops. Baseball games to bar rooms.
Doctor's appointments, wedding occasions. Concerts halls and street corners.
Museums, amusement parks, foreign cities, and my own backyard.
Within its pages, I document, and doodle. I paint. I play.
I write, and record, and also I save.
There are shelves filled with them.
They come in all sizes.
A library of memories, so long past.
But flipping through pages, I remember so much.
A flood rushes back. A wave crashes in.
Hear the sounds.
Picture the visions.
I taste the food and all of the drinks.
I feel the buzz. And I remember each sting.
Someday, I'll be long gone.
My hope is, these ghosts,
May someway live on.