Scanning my youth
from the pages
of my old notebooks,
stored through the decades,
I reveal truths
I was never aware of;
jotted-down commonplace occurrences
played out in the summer and fall
of 1963
that, scrutinized
by this retired crime investigator
fifty-seven years later,
open quite clear patterns
of a brewing divorce
that tore my youth apart
and opened an abyss of fatigue
and dark feelings
where I roamed for years

Betrayal is right there
in my notes
but only understood
after fifty-seven years,
long after the players turned into dust
and shadowy recollections