Could you check the time for me,

Oscar?

The siren voice requests sing-songingly.

Menacing, but in a gentle way.

When I look up, I’m unsure what to say.

He towers over me like a Scottish leviathan

dressed in a purple striped tie and

having eyes, tangerine-like in size,

dripping with the juice of expectancy.

I am sad to have to disappoint Mr. D

because my name is not

Oscar

Despite what he may ask.

Was it an innocent mistake between two

very similarly shaped students?

or a sort of freudian slip?

Could an Andy be too stupid to tell time, while an

Oscar

is somehow better equipped?

Should I correct him?

What would I rather be called?

Andy?

I wonder, in twenty years, what he will call me.

Dude?

Hey you?

Mr. Remind me your name again?

In fact, I guess he could have called me

anything

Made me cry,

Made me worthless,

Made me vanish.

I suppose it’s really not so bad to just be an

Oscar

So I simply say it's 11:15

and cherish the moment