A Song of Names and Faces

I walk across noon with you today
knowing you for a mistake in my blood
calling you with yesterday’s voice
and you are wise to forget the rules
of yesterday’s game. But creepers tickle
our elbows as we circle the park
and tomorrow
the little red gourds hung on the cusp
of the moon of cherries blackening
will rattle a winter’s song.

I cannot record the face you wear
in this afternoon
because I have not judged myself.
We shall walk as far as we can
until we tire
hoping
there will be someone
to amuse each of us
on the way back home.

I always forget how the year began
by the time midsummer comes on me.

We first met at noontime
during the moon of snowblindness
Shall I call you today’s name tomorrow
or forget you exist at all?