Remember

The crevices of my mind are

wrinkled

crimped

and scrambled

The words twist and turn

on my lips they stumble

on my tongue they trip

The only place they run smoothly

from my mind to the outside world

is from the ink flowing down a ballpoint pen

On paper my thoughts are ironed out and folded

other times they flow like the legs of a runner

jumping over rocks in their path

Without pen and paper

I cannot create

Without pen and paper

I cannot remember

That is why I write

to straighten

to create

to remember