A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

I am learning
that I can disentangle memories.
Your presence in them does not
make them necessarily about you. 

I am learning
that the reason these memories
are good is not that you were there.
	It was not your presence beside me
	on the couch that made Season 8
	of Masterchef so addictive. 

I am learning 
that revelations and realisations
need not give you the power to sully past beauties. 
If a thing, a time, a song, a meal, an experience
was beautiful in its own right,
this does not cease by association with you,
and I can pull apart
facts and feelings,
sift out the pieces worth keeping,
and use the magic
of time and neuroplasticity
to magnify the little pleasures. 

I’d forgotten this restaurant exists,
long dropped off my radar,
and my first memory is
of this being somewhere we wanted to explore together,
but in truth,
I simply wanted to eat here. 
I could have been with you, or alone,
but today it is with someone else. 
I am aware you’d be jealous,
if you knew you were missing out,
and the smallest scent of pettiness
wafts in with the ocean breeze,
but I no longer care about you
even enough to wish to wound you.

Have I learned indifference?
I can order the things I like,
without having to worry 
that you don’t like eggplant.
I can have the second cocktail,
and no one cracks a joke 
about white girl livers.

I am learning 
I can create new memories.