someday
when we have gone our separate ways
and you are famous
for one of your many skills
I will find you
and you will not remember me
you will not remember how I ran away
and it will be like we just met
and I will get to watch your well-practiced,
first-impression charm
again
and you will be a comedian
or a politician
or a pianist
or an actor
or cellist
or swing-dancer
or whatever you call a professional ukulele player
and you will not notice my face
for once
against the many others
all there to witness first hand a small piece of your genius
that they might be lucky enough to take in a flash of your talent
with their own eyes
come to bask in your accomplishment and success
but unlike them
I will know your shame and secrets
and your old insecurities
because I was there
and maybe
if I am feeling bold
I will talk to you
and my voice will not shake
and you will not look at me in contempt
and maybe
my voice will trigger some long-lost memories
the same memories I still dwell upon
but you won't be able to place it
so you won't bring it up
and if you ask my name
(not that I would merit such a high honor)
but if you did
I would not tell you the truth
I would not let you understand
would not re-introduce old recognition
trigger old memories
forced below the surface
that you didn't want to re-examine
I'd save you the pangs of regret
and humiliation
that you would remember
but you will think I am familiar
and if you do recognize me
you will pretend you do not
for the same reasons I do not
and you will be jovial
and you would have forgotten
or almost forgotten
everything
by then
and then I will leave
you won't think of me again
and I will keep on thinking of you
just like it's always been