Whirrr is what we do

That moment you comb memory but are oh so stuck in muck.

That moment you find your missing glasses perched on the crown of your head.
That moment you smell burning, not boiling, water. Damaged Diamond.

That moment you wake to what you had forgotten.

That moment someone-else's priority distracts.
That moment the voice in your head interrupts "This is something ..." 
That moment good writing feeds you an unforgettable line. More insight a Google away.
That moment you ignore pause, rewind, replay to be present.
That moment you wake in drool. Missed it. The very thing you stretched your day for.

That moment you inhale Spring, lungs compressing for life itself.
That moment you think "Is cardio class over yet? Again. Again. And again. 

That moment you can not hold the laughter back and splatter your joy into your drink.
That moment you lean in to a hug.

That moment a question alights that you know will not be answered, so you do not ask.
That moment you stop reading to read again.
That moment you realize this person has become a friend.
That moment you realize being a mom is something you just do.

That moment you lost another poem. 
That moment you read another poem and your heart goes whirrr 
transports you back over 50 years

It went "Zip" when it moved
And "Bop" when it stopped
And "Whirrr" when it stood still
I never knew just what it was and I guess I never will.

~~~~ 1st draft -- the bones of it ~~~~
That moment you wake up realizing what you had forgotten.
That moment when you stop reading to read again.
That moment you hear a story and the voice in your head says I must remember that line.
That moment you are interrupted by someone-else's priority, distracted, maybe never to return to your moment.
That moment the good writer of a TV drama feeds you an unforgettable line which in trying to be present with the story, you do not remember well enough to Google. The value of replay if you have the moments.
That moment you walk into the gym and inhale the clean of it thankful, but lungs compressing for life itself.
That moment you think is cardio class over yet. Again. Again. Again. 
That moment you can not hold the laughter back and splatter your joy into your drink.
That moment you want to find a date for in your memory, but are oh so stuck in muck.
That moment you want to ask a question that you know will not be answered, so you do not ask.
That moment you realize this person has become a friend.
That moment you realize being a mom is something you just do.
That moment you lost another poem. 
That moment you read another poem and your heart goes whirrr transports you back over 50 years 

~~~ related ~~~
Don't Allow the Lucid Moment to Dissolve by Adam Zagajewski