Shaded Past

I am conversing and inversing at the same time.  The converse of an inverse conversation isn’t talking in reverse.  You may have a backwards banter of meaningless mockery, but thoughtful conversation cannot happen in reverse.  When we converse we think about what hear and relate what we know to what we say.  The inverse would be to say what we do not know it be rescinded never heard and never considered.  Forgetting is thinking in reverse.  To remember what we have forgotten we converse.  What could we remember if conversations had no limitations?  I checked in on the old man the other evening.  He and I talked late into the night. Our discussion seemed to go on and on. The moon was high in the sky as we talked about everything under the sun. It’s funny how at the end of it all you can’t even remember where you started from. He hadn’t been feeling well and hadn’t gotten out lately.  Feeling obligated, I tapped phone, recents, found his number, and tapped to call.  I was out and about, soaking up the sun with my O ROKR‘s on and on my way to the bank down at the corner.  I figured I’d ask him if he needed anything from the grocery market I’d be passing on the way. When I was over to his place the night before trying to get his reception converted, I may have eaten everything he had. As I was walking he was talking, telling me about wanting to stand back and see the show. While traversing the people on the street I realized he must have been sitting too far away, his vision isn’t what it used to be, and he was complaining that his picture was distorted.  Passing some crazy dude trying to be a mime, I told him I had the same set up at my place and I could see it just fine. He said he would like to come by and take a look at my set up, so I told him it would be fine if he stopped by to take a look again, once he got well that is.  He remembers what happened twenty years ago as clear as if it happened today.  I listen in admiration as he details the past in all its vivid and awe-inspiring glory. His moonlit past makes my future seem as bright as the sun. Looking up to see the reflection of such sun off the windows of the store front, I realize that my time to come is a commendation of his condemnation to a time before. Being censured to only the past, his future is not so bright, that’s why he doesn’t wear shades. Walking into the grocer’s, I reminded him of what happened yesterday, but reiterate what he needs for tomorrow.