memory, she’s a fickle cow

you can never have one in the now

and why are the memories best of those who need them least

should not as your age grows great your memory too increase

an eight year old has no need of keys but he can tell you where they are

for me the point is quite moot cause I’ve forgotten where’s the car

more and more I’m less and less certain of what memories were dreams

I clearly remember posting that bill cause I passed a yeti eating ice-cream

a woman watching 60 Minutes was robbed, but cops called her a loony

you see the old girl was quite sure she’d been burgled by Andy Rooney

now it’s time for me to bring this poem to a close

I had a much better bit but have forgotten how it goes