ride the no. 10 downtown, walk
to the Y. Locker in the second aisle.
Stow backpack and coat. Smile at her.
Weird today, isn't it? Who are all these people?
Is there a holiday from school?
(she means: good Lord, these chicks
make me feel old)
I'm sure glad to see you here!
(she means: at least there's one face I know.
I have not told her my name. She says
she doesn't remember names.)
She tells me— voice lowered—
I have to take these pills four times a day,
or I'd die (a solemn nod, blue eyes wide)
I had a seizure and it damaged my brain.
Once she tells me: It was so hard
when it happened, I couldn't go out.
I couldn't remember where I lived.
She's in gym clothes. I go to the pool.
You're such a speed-swimmer,
you and that other guy!
and I can't tell her otherwise.
Just smile and shrug. I'm glad
to see her, too.
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