Fifteen

When my teeth bite down I can see the blood
Of a thousand men who have come and gone
Now we grieve 'cause now it's gone
Things were good when we were young
--Von Bondies

As I stepped outside early this morning, it looked the same. Sun rising into a deep blue sky. Clean, crisp air with a hint of fall in it. Quiet.

But I need no reminders. Although I don't care to think about the particulars of that day much anymore, when I do, my worst nightmare dutifully reappears in full color and detail. Seared into memory for ready retrieval.

The space between then and now closes. And fifteen years ago becomes fifteen seconds ago.