You namer—five years later—drops again
(this time) over a discourse of hot chocolate
in white mugs and a plate of afterschool treats
“The angry one” is what you are called,
suddenly, by someone who may
or may not have known you at all
There is confusion, a brief muddle, and I can’t help
wonder why a name that was white out in my mind
suddenly smudged the air with taboo
History made a crater I had to shovel over,
to bury it with the past that had to remain forgotten,
as time turned toward the future
The muddle is patched over with laughter,
and the conversation discretely dissolves,
but I am still left wondering about you again
Are you still the same?
Written: 10/16/09
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