Memories

How do you make sense of some memories?
Some are very simple,
Going out for ice cream at the local shop,
Walking along window shopping with the family.
Others make no sense at all,
Waiting in the car at what I think was a bank,
In those days, no one thought a thing of leaving
The kids in the car.
For some reason I remember this one,
We had been there so long that one of us
Had to go, really bad, peeing the pants bad.
Rather than do that, another came up with the solution,
I think the container was a coffee can, fished out of the trunk.
Anyway, I remember we all got in trouble,
Because no one would rat out the ringleader,
And I don't think anyone told exactly who went.
It makes no sense that we were out there that long.
Or a fragment of a memory in a theater,
Where I saw the film of the creature walking on the big screen.
I know what that one is,
It was the Bigfoot film, and I was about three or so.
How do I know? Well, one, I asked my father.
Two, I saw that very footage on a TV special here
Not too long ago.
I was instantly transported back to the dark theater,
The man up there talking after the film.
He sat on a stool.
Memories are really a strange thing.
Even stranger is what unlocks them.