Does my name strike you in the chest
like arctic wind on bare skin
or a heatwave from an oven door


Or have the memories and associations turned to blank
An image to picture
A scent to happenstance
The words to just sounds


Did my face fade to another then to silhouettes then to shapes
only to appear in a restaurant booth or each puddle along Route 8

Carry with you that piece of me however small it may be
even if my name is just another outline amidst infinity