Amnesia's Tide

The water is coming again. It licks at the edges of today, and yesterday is already submerged, a sunken city of"What did I say?" I find artifacts on the shore: a receipt for a meal I don't remember eating, a stranger's name in my phone, the echo of my own heart,beating a frantic rhythm for a grief I can't place. My life is a beach after amnesia's tide. I spend my mornings trying to trace the footprints left behind, wondering which of me went for a walk, and if they were kind.