mid-flight

in the cab home, i remembered an old classmate

whose last name was the only thing i could recall

as it sounded so close to aparador [1]

and how in a small school talent show

with a voice untarnished by puberty

he sang of faded photographs, of memories weathered by age

i laughed at the thought

of him singing about nostalgia       when he was, when we were

too young and how our hearts were

yet unscarred

to wish for someone, or wish someone       would ask us

to stay, 

to remember, 

to rot with.

[1]“closet” His last name was Obrador. His first name and face, I cannot, for the life of me, remember.