i knew you would forget my name if i didn't write it for you every day for you to see. so i found the bridge your car whizzes under every day to work and sprayed it in blue with toadstools and fireworks pretty girls and tampons was it enough to wipe the yellow from your mind?
i knew you would forget my name if i didn't write it down every day for you to see. so i shimmied up the sky and hung a banner of azure eyes and white, white teeth and waited. but next week i saw it floating down the river with two empty cans of chewing tobacco and a lemonade carton.
i knew you would forget my name if i didn't write it big enough so i held my breath with my head on the tracks and waited for the rumbling to stop
by chance i relived that scene in the cosmic cloister where i'm still waiting saw that my head was smeared for a mile trying to spell out Hello! but the trail was an unripe cantaloupe
i turned away and wept
a ghost story written when i was feeling very small