A short memory

by Mark

I can’t remember your name
Yet, somethings wedged
between my skull and brain.
Situated right where the custard
Spewed out onto the plate a
rorschach of all your changes
Blotting against lines
of the outline I had in my mind.

Why are you there? We
left the book colored
white. All the crayons still
Slumbering; 64 children
all smudge free with
all the wrapper to protect
from involvement inclineing names
And speech to etch a life.