Editing my memory

Editing my memory

I left Global Financial Inc. early today. Couldn’t take it. At the moment am sitting at Sam’s café waiting for Claire. Some jittery clients screaming at me. I may be a financial analyst but not a magician. Today the ink was black and smelled like fresh tar on a road. I can’t change that like so many other things I can’t do.

Cloudy but no rain yet so I will stay at an outdoor café table waiting for Claire. The waiter comes by again, “Can I get you something else, more coffee or another Danish? I guess he wants me gone so that someone else could use the table. At least I am not sitting here on my  computer. I told him “I’m waiting for someone to join me and then I will order something else for both of us. Is something else on the menu? I laughed the waiter didn’t just walked away.

Claire came bouncing along sat down and kissed me on the cheek. What does that mean. A bad sign.  I am not her cousin, oh well. She seems edging sitting there across from me. The waiter comes over and she orders a cappuccino and a chocolate chip cookie. Minutes later she said, “Wow. I just remembered. I totally forgot. Got a run, really run and will get in touch later”. Claire stood up with her cappuccino and cookie in hand and headed off.

My coffee is cold but I don’t want any more of anything, at least for now.

I thought, ‘Claire things I’m funny. I make her laugh. She knows I do that with everyone, keep them amused, tell stories that entertain but deflect from what I am really feeling inside, a loser. Somehow, I never measure up, and seems like now Claire gets it and she is on her way out, leaving me with a kiss on the cheek.

I sit and reviewer and what a memory slide show of how somehow, I fall short. My autobiography is faulty, but maybe not but and once again I have disappointed others.

Yes, my autobiography is faulty

Filled with errors

Starting when I was too small to remember

But I remember that I was Scared to come home

Too much shouting and breaking of plates

Sick of Miss Mitchell in 2nd grade

I told her I couldn’t help it.

“Sam, pronounce length as length and not lengtssssss.

You are not trying.”

She didn’t choose me to wipe the blackboard clean

Choose me? Not the jerk sitting next to me.

She doesn’t choose me.

Back then I was too slow to get to first base on time

I was always too tired to study past nine

I learned that nothing will work

For me as I am

Maybe if I rewrote my biography

Maybe I can edit my genes

Maybe I can edit my archives

I could get a fresh start.

Maybe Claire will have some ideas to change my history

Change who I am.