The forgetful poet

How aging changes a writer's life! When I was a young short story writer, just beginning to appear in the literary magazines, late 1960s, each publication made my heart flutter. To see my story in print!

• The Thing at 34 degrees..., The Colorado Quarterly, Spring 1969
• Presenting the Annual Interracial Pig Roast, Prism International, Spring 1971
• The Idaho Jacket, Prism International, Spring 1973

It almost seemed magical, almost as if this "Charles Deemer" listed as author couldn't possibly be me.

The story of my poem being published in Work Literary Magazine today is somewhat different.

When I received an email from the magazine some weeks ago, telling me they had accepted the poem after holding on to it for a year, I was puzzled. I had no memory of writing this poem. I had no memory of sending it to them. Moreover, I couldn't find a copy of it on my computer. What was going on?

Not wanting to admit to premature senility or worse, I wrote back that I had lost my copy of the poem and could they send me a copy, just to double check that I still owned up to it. They did and it suddenly rang a bell. Sort of. I had a vague recollection of writing it, sending it. At any rate, I approved it (again) and today it appears.

My heart isn't a-flutter. At the same time I am delighted to be a part of a journal I've come to admire. And the poem deals with a still vivid memory of my teenage life in LA.

What would send my heart a-flutter today? I'm not sure. A lot of money maybe. Fat chance.

I gave up on Happiness long ago. I traded it for Contentment.

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Here is the song that's the subject of the poem and its even better sequel: