Groping, groping. What the hell is that word I’m looking for? What was that movie?
“You know what I mean. You know who I mean. Don’t look at me like that! You know.” Irritated because they can’t read my mind and know what and who I mean. Or irritated maybe because they’re looking like I might be losing my mind.
Daily groping now to pick my brain, always for that thing that got stuck somewhere.
“You need to try some brain games,” my son suggested.
“No. I have to learn something new, something really hard.”
Something in layers to stack up. Learn to play the piano. Study Greek. Not just a language, but the alphabet. Maybe start with the dictionary and use every word in a sentence. I had to look up louche and detritus while reading a poem last night. Anyway, something so hard I’m frustrated, but not too frustrated.
I know. Calculus. Now where in the hell did I put that textbook?
“Aw, I’ll look for it tomorrow…if I remember.”