Leave truth to the philosophers
I only know
What I think I know
And even that
Is reliant on my memory
I mean
What is the truth
Of my history?
The actuality
Of my past?
The reality
Of what has been
Is circumscribed
And defined
By the interpretations
Of the things I recall
I only know that
This is how I have been
By the conviction
Of my recollections
And the little proofs
Of the memorabilia
Gathered together
In each event -
Flotsam and jetsam
Of my presence
And the small, shared
Recipricol imprinting
Of our coexistence