I can’t ever remember having Deja vu
There’s no place I’ve ever felt I’ve been before,
No moment where I’ve said, “I remember going through that door”.
I think that repetition is redundandtly superflous
I think that memories are parked in our brains
Waiting to run us over like rogue trains.
Then, occassionally one hides in the darkness
Waiting to jump into our consciousness, to yell
“Remember being here? Remember that smell? Remember that sunlight?”
Deja vu? No, its ghosts from the past,
Squeezing through the cracks,
Following you in your tracks.
I often recall the faces of people I’ve never met,
And say to them, “Remember me?”
They say, “Lets see,” and ponder the idea
That they might know this complete stranger.
I often wonder if they feel in danger,
As they scurry away after saying “Nope!”