Re-minding Reminders

Don’t stray from the weight of the world.

Re-minding Reminders

By Tyler Lucas Mobley 

If sunshine be butter 

take me for bread. 

Life’s sweetest sentiments

fall conspicuous as ripe 

coconuts in Manhattan. 

All this momentum up a 

waterfall, never a thought 

to test the flow. 

Did you remember to re-mind?

Change the soil of your fertile

drum, realizing then how green

a thumb you’ve been sitting on.

Turning stones in a prized search

never mind the reward was in the 

act. Fork and knife powerless

over cerebral soup, spoon fed

re-minder for a taste of God. 

Ahh yes, limitless all along, for 

the water was always wine and 

fish delight the offer of your net. 

An old vinyl re-minded, suddenly

plays new grooves. With sultry

disguise the best thing that could

ever happen has a painful start. 

In the moment of re-minding the 

world behaves at the direction of 

your spark, lantern, candle, bonfire

with doubt stomped out resume 

wayfaring thought, existence holds 

another stone to sharpen our edge.  

 

Forever Sweet Caroline

 words of gratitude

Forever Sweet Caroline

By Tyler Lucas Mobley 

Don’t be surprised when the lady on the bench says into her phone,

“What do you mean my jet can’t land?” then tells her assistant next

to her to look up the flight authorization number, “no I’m here see

that’s unacceptable,” and she’ll go on bulldozing then garner 

sympathy from people with name tags knowing full well no one 

can relate to her problems. 

Fighting off expectations of a pocket full of money, happening

with such regularity in the occupied role, reality becomes another

check out. Glazed reproductions of the same interaction with

different faces, these trenches are hard to climb.

A bass line everyone knows, hands reach for other hands or

pull up a dress for a dance floor dash because they understand

it won’t play again. Inclined to soften the eyes to the memories 

being made before them. Mental barrier to how this band’s cover 

doesn’t hold up to the week before, when there’s cake, eat. 

Because once you may be asked, “Can you take us back to 

our rooms, we forgot our hats?” when they return in bucket hats 

with Turkish House Mafia stitched in you’ll find out the groom

is a DJ and witness years of ridicule for questionable taste come

full circle in a heartfelt gesture. “To the afterparty?” 

Discovering the woman to whom the lyric is directed, who for

decades the collective voices have congregated, will need your help 

and you’ll come running to her door to find a Kennedy out in the 

cold, prone to the same faults. Exchanging smiles and a set of keys, 

never a more endearing normal than from forever Sweet Caroline.