Memory Lapse

Met somebody the other day.

We had a swell time.

We planned to meet up again,

We set a date, I’d give them a ride.
-

Now the day has come.

Time to meet them again.

It’s going to be fun.

But there is a problem.
-

I don’t remember their name

Or their clothes

Or their face

Or their nose

Or their race

Where do I go?
-

Probably should’ve written down their address.

Maybe my parents can help me find them.

“Of course, sweetie, just tell me their name.”

…

Looks like I’ll be a no-show tonight.

I don’t mean to ghost them, alright?

But if I can’t remember why I need to go get them,

It probably wasn’t even all that important.
-

Are they a boy?

Or a girl?

Old or young?

Tall or short?

Give me details,

Just a little more

Than my faulty memory reports.
-

So I go for a walk through the neighborhood.

I come back late, in the evening Sun.

But as I reach my house, I see in the road.

A blue car pulling into the driveway.
-

A stranger by our house, car parked in my way.

Such a fancy car, wonder where they got it from.

Should I go inside, or try to talk to them?
-

I knock on the door, they roll down their window.

They look me in the eyes, their friendly smile is familiar.

I ask them why they’re here, they don’t give an answer.

Maybe I wasn’t clear, so I ask them a second time.
-

They open the door. They step outside.

They say that they’ve come to give me a ride.

I step back trying to figure out why

I feel like I’ve seen them before in my life.
-

Memory Lapse. Memory Lapse.

I can’t remember your name, your first or your last.

Memory Lapse. Memory Lapse.

What was that word again? Is it chloroplast?

Memory Lapse. Memory Lapse.

I’ve got so many laps, I’d win a swimming contest.

Memory Lapse. Memory Lapse.

How much time must elapse for things to make sense?