On Forgetting

Today I remembered-
kinda.
I remembered that
it's been twelve months
since I last saw you.
Or maybe it was eleven months.
And that's my favorite part.

I don't remember
the specs of your racecar,
your 5k times,
or the model number of
your Smith & Wesson M & P;
oh wait,
there's another thing.
I don't remember if it's a
nine millimeter
or a forty-five caliber,
I think caliber is the right word
this time.

Of course,
I can't forget everything.
I still remember that you
spent $1100 on wheels and tires
two months after you couldn't
afford more than $500 on my engagement ring.
I still remember sitting
in Folsom Field four days after my
knee surgery
photographing your run in.
And lastly,
I remember
the hand cramps and abrasion
I got
racking back that gun.

The best part,
still,
are the days when I can't remember
what I've forgotten.