Pixelated Memories

A Poem

What puzzles me yet and still
and shoots me into an air of wonder
an air so gay in colors
a stream of pixelated pieces of memory
a memory of you.
I follow it so meticulously
I am so afraid of losing it
Because of young age or unfamiliar other worries

…

I know for a fact
I want it to live long
My memory is the only place we meet
and communicate very intensely
body language and verbal indulgence

…

What puzzles me is that cold hand
that I touched by way of formality
Formality was the only courageous way
to a stingy uncompromised arrogance of relation
So unmoved by the mover
so silent to the articulator
And here’s a lifetime question
Was it a cold fear of the unknown
or the unexpected
or the unfamiliar
or a dreamy idolized mirage