"We have defined a story as a narrative of events arranged in their

time-sequence.  A plot is also a narrative of events, the emphasis

 falling

on causality."

-E. M. Forster, Aspects of the Novel

Hume proved conclusively we cannot know

if anything is caused by something else.

In other words, our narrative has no

plot, is a patched physique that lacks a pulse.

Well, there's a plot of sorts, and history

is buried there, the one thing coming after

another, but it's still a mystery

to me as well as to E. M. Forster

why it is that this has followed that

and not this or that.  The novelist

cannot accept that things occur without

cause, or thinks that if they do, at least

They shouldn't in his book; wherefore, I say,

if God exists, He prefers poetry.

Memories

They come, they go,

leaving behind a trail

of blue smoke, blue

because they are often sad,

smoke, because that's what

they do, lounging against store fronts,

waiting for you to remember

to pick them up        

and when you do

they hop into the back seat,

saying Drive faster, or

Let's stop by Miranda's house,