So
when I go
write my name
on a plaque.
A grubby
brushed metal plaque.
On a bench
overlooking the sea.
On that trail
in that town.
Where the summer memories
everlast.
Memories of mine
and memories of others.
As others read my name
and wonder
how long ago i sat there
overlooking the sea.
And I wonder
how many travelers
and tourists
and local old folk
will ignore
my name
pressing into their spines.













