You Can’t Leave It Behind, Either

Some of what you remember
Still has some correspondence
With what remains in the world.

Even in the moment, you
Are never more than guessing
And modeling what’s out there,

And most of the modeling
Going on within your skull
Isn’t really done by you.

You’re vaguely in attendance,
Along for the ride, the view.
But some of it corresponds

To phenomena beyond
Any boundary of you,
While some of what’s still in you

Matches nothing anymore,
Not even a little bit—
Models you’ll take to your death,

Gone buildings that you lived in,
Faces that you thought you knew.
No matter how you archive

Such shreds of your existence,
Your reality that was
Truly false was only you.