name-changing & "David"

this is something i struggle with in my writing. in my life, i've always felt that the names of the people i've come into contact with suit them very well and any tampering i might make with them would ruin a good story. it also feels like a lie. i don't want to be untruthful to my audience (what little of it there may be). and so yesterday i attempted to title a poem truthfully, with the name of the subject, but to then title it again with a name not similar in spelling but in feeling. i imagined a specific person sayng both names, and found the false one acceptable.

this poem is for David.


"David"

she has unfortunately shown up and shown herself to be useful.

completely unexpected rigid and clean clean if not slightly unshaven and pristinely married wide eyes wide eyes and lips oh lips to speak of through that nasal though deeply resting chest of voice.

Like he said unexpected so unexpectedly frumpish and young youth forgotten until a here rare summer moment of carnal movement pierces and unbeknownst to him necessary to inner issues of fleshful engineering reveals the insides of long creamy thighs slightly tanned and craving hands his hands unfortunate unfortunate man! hilariously damned in crisp white oxford and quietly stylish new lawyer pants new lawyer pants new new lawyer lawyer pants. pants. that awkwardly smooth golf-and-baseball fan does not want to keep on on on uncomfortably on sitting facing the window in pristine office on the phone as she leaves copied documents hotly resting hotly rests them on the pristine desk what is she wearing in reflection not looking NOT looking rests them on the desk with maybe not so much as a glance just just another man another lawyer old yet not and learned by her father her father her Father oh her father gone and present.

His wide eyes those nearly old bored glares of hers his eyes on those silky silky thighs

and he dreams that it could be like so -

a sweltering Friday Friday those who cheat will not be in and those who do not will be office office signing in for money money her taken paycheck all are out vacationed out and vacationed and he waits waits like a sea eel in his pristine wooden office

and she comes alone the bosses left her nothing but she works so punching clock -

"Is there anything I can do for you?"