The most intimate part of a person
is their name. You can see it written
in the sky, on your soul. Do you
realize you have such power
with just a name? Perhaps you
give it away for free like sex,
but only certain people call me
Chrissy, and after reading that
book where the main character
had my name, it fucked me up
because I never meant to tell you
anything. I fuck up every day
of the week. Write down my
blunders and use them at my
eulogy. After a week, you’ll have
an illusion of who I am not
do you realize how beautiful I’m not?
It’s the camera and the words
I will convince you
that I don’t deserve any of you.
I will marry you anyway.
I will have your children.
You will make me breakfast.
You will tell me your real name.
That I deserve.