The white edges of memory, the blur of forgotten details,
nostalgia hazed by the camera-gauze that used to soften Miss Ellie
in Dallas close-ups, the want-to-forget parts of the past crinkle-cut
by pinking shears, pretty trim to look good whilst weighing the justice scales.
We did what we did, said what we said, walked away, went back,
choices, coin-toss decision-making tilted by selfishness hidden
behind the facade of good manners and gentlemanly behaviour,
but still the sins, like Jed Clampett's oil strike, bubble messy and black.
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