Robert Gibbons Drawn in Charcoal & Ochre on a Cave Wall What'd we do? Went somewhere together. Saved a few postcards from the cave. Rediscovered stray journal entries just yesterday. Photographs squirreled away somewhere in the cellar. Even the stone hewn down to mimic a fish, I knew ahead of time we'd find along the trek, doubled as burin for ancient man. But memory, I suppose, sweet memory, stored in sensory cells of skin & bone, lets us know best where we were alone together so long ago bonded us, bound us together, branded us, I'm not ashamed to say, as herd, pack, pair, couple.

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