In Another Life - Feb 23 2025

 

In Another Life

Feb 23 2025

Like the socks lost in the dryer,

the homework the dog ate,

the girls I was too scared to ask,

where have all the names gone

I forgot?

Which happens a lot;

the hot flush, rising in my neck,

the cold sweat

already clammy,

and a hastily improvised hey.

Because I’m bad at names

  — people I’ve just met,

casual acquaintances,

even friends.

But like someone who can’t read

but is smart enough to compensate

I’ve learned to buy time

deflect

evade.

Nevertheless, I suspect they’re on to me.

In my defence, I come by it honestly.

My father confused our monikers,

calling my brothers me,

or going through the roll call

until the right one came.

And more than once

I was Blackie, the family dog;

as if the first initial

is all that counts.

Then the time we’ll never forget,

when he called my mother, the woman he loved

someone else.

A cheap tryst, mistress, or paramour?

Not the man I take after,

our absent-minded dad

who was as faithful as forgetful.

When I lose my faculties

to either age or rust

whatever proper names are left

will doubtless go first.

Perhaps off

to where those socks hang out

damp and mildewing,

that take-home test

still resides.

And to wherever, in their multitudes

the unattainable girls are;

who might just have said “yes”

in another life.