Mnemonic

If I had to do today again
I’d do it without the 3 am
awakening – sadly things
went awry before the sun
rose and I had to spend
the rest of what was left
of it inadequately trying
to make amends.

I apologise to ladies at the
bank – declare Alzheimer’s
but not too seriously; the
answer was later clear, it
may be implicated but my
not remembering account
numbers was in a sense
mostly forgivable.

It’s a case of an atrophied
brain in cincture of recess –
but I’ll blame many rather
than one cause, and clarity
of a few corona beers for
awareness that the rhyme
of a numeric sequence had
hung me out to dry.

As one ages metre moves
from trochee to spondee –
or the other way, memory
fails simple tests of matter
and in my case mnemonic
cues called the bluff of a
3 am arousal for less than
its metric suspense...
© 25 February 2010, I. D. Carswell