Memories played back in repetition.

Perceived before dawn

As the dish of the day

By noon, a squeeze of lemon

Undiluted on the tongue

Altered tastes of things to come

Memories played back in repetition

A hundred eyes morphed into windows

Each looking at the same sun-bleached canvas

An unmistakable likeness to an old crime

Dusk descended on a routine day

The previous night’s convictions

No longer fired up in the belly