i will try to remember your face
but it’ll be sand on the surface
of the water, and i’ll rely on
dreams to get your smile right
but time will send rain
and then the paint runs.
one day the boutique will
stop carrying your perfume
and the eumelanin of your hair
will pale like a sunfaded photograph
and our relatives will begin
to die around us, still i will
try to remember your face
but it will come to me as pixels
or a monet painting viewed too close
and i will fail to quote you
correctly anymore, and finally,
finally
i’ll start forgetting your name