Poem of the Day 01.09.09

poem for the girl who dedicated
a poem to me last friday night

i wish i could remember
your face
not for anything romantic or tawdry
but because oscar said
that if someone composes
a poem to you on the spot
then it’s worth something
they are worth remembering.
but i can’t remember you.
i was too drunk.
my wife and my friend
kept pouring me glasses of petite sirah
and i was wired because
i hate going to readings to begin with.
okay.
okay.
i poured myself a good amount
of the wine too.
still i can’t recall your face
or anything else about you
and i’m ashamed of that fact.
i feel like a primadonna.
but i remember the kid with the beard
and the black guy who wanted a flier.
i remember that one woman reading
a bukowski poem so badly
that i never wanted to hear
hank’s work again.
i remember stealing a no smoking sign
some guy telling me to fuck off on hudson street
and passing out on the r train home
after picking a fight with my wife.
but, dear,
i don’t remember you.
and come to think of it
what’s worse is i don’t remember
the poem that you read
and dedicated to me
last friday night, either.