False Memory

The wafel vendor doesn’t recognize me when I pay, but why should he? The park glows with the memory of you for me and no one else. I trace our route, under red leaves that are about to fall. I find the railing and look over the water. Last time, the leaves were green, and there were a handful of paddleboats scudding over the rippling lake. There were dozens of people leaning over this same railing talking, laughing, taking pictures. Today is a still, chilly day. The swans seem to sit stationary on its surface. I can almost believe that I imagined that day, that I never met you.