Memory is a Mysterious Thing

When  I was reading Proust
And about 200 pages into Swann’s Way

I suddenly remembered  a friend
Who had told me about his friend

Whose father was the CEO of a major transnational corporation &
Whose mother went to daily Mass in a bullet-proof limousine with armed guards

Lest kidnappers be tempted to interfere with
Her consummate devotion to the Blessed Sacrament


memory is a Myserious Thing

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