I know your name, better than mine.
I see it written on motel walls
or in the bottom of an empty coffee cup,
as I sit in a small diner, alone,
I have seen your name on billboards
or emblazoned on clouds by the
reflections from a neon sky.
In the morning, when I rise,
I see your name, in these
tired eyes, trapped within
the patchy mirror, reflecting
my morning image.