Amnesiac Dink by Oliver Woormfryes

A MAN NAMED DINK (D) sits cross-legged in the grass in a small park in the center of Philadelphia (P). Beside him is a large bronze statue (LBS), presumably crafted in the likeness of one of the more famous characters from the American History Books (AHBs). D was sitting on the small stone stoop (SSS) of the LBS just moments ago.
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I.
Anxious box
Confining box
Constricting box
Staggeringly tight steel box.

II.
She watched the spider darning
Darning a web in one corner
Busily defying the flood of sterility radiating from the fluorescents
By beating hemolymph around its little body

“Everybody wants perspective from a hill,
but everybody’s wants can’t make it
past the windowsill.”
—Silver Jews, Pretty Eyes
Bags mostly packed. Panties still not dry. I reach for the blowdryer to finish them off; there's more on my mind than impending travel, or the lyrics of that song I liked enough to try to remember, or damp lingerie. There's an unexpected thought, a wholly unfamiliar vision. An invading army crosses the meridian of my medial temporal lobe, the nursery where infant memories incubate, where the mortality rate is high; where things are left to die, exposed to the elements of everything else.