Border Songs for Collapsing Rooms

This is not how I remember it,
The portrait sprouted one more hand at noon;
Another me knows where the keys sit.

Billboards insist the slogan doesn’t fit,
Receipts misdate the week, the till keeps tune—
This is not—how I remember it.

The train windows mirror a doubled skit;
My shadow steps ahead, comes back too soon:
Another me knows where the keys sit.

Across the city every mouth will flit
Between two lines from one misread tram-map rune:
This is not, now, how I remember it.

Then all that scale collapses to a slit—
A single tooth hums softly, off in June;
Another me knows where the keys sit.

I catalogue the lives that almost knit,
And pin their names beneath the kitchen moon:
This is not how I remember it,
Another me knows where the keys sit.