I guess you're wondering who I am; but I'm one of those who don't always have a name. My name is up to you. Call me as it crosses your mind.
If you're thinking about something that happened a long time ago, let's say someone asked you something and you didn't know the answer.
That's my name.
Maybe it was a heavy rain.
That's my name.
Or someone asked you to do something. You did too. Then they said what you did was wrong. You said "sorry for my mistake" and you had to do something else.
That's my name.
Maybe it was a game you played as a kid, or something that just popped into your head as you got older and sat by the window.
That's my name.
Or you walked somewhere. There were flowers everywhere.
That's my name.
Maybe you were staring at a river. There was someone who loved you by your side. They almost touched you. You felt it before they touched it. Then they touched.
That's my name.
Or you heard someone calling from far away. Their voices were almost an echo.
That's my name.
Maybe you were lying in bed, almost falling asleep and suddenly you started laughing at something, the joke about yourself, a nice way to end the day.
That's my name.
Or you were eating something delicious and for a moment you forgot what you ate, but you continued to eat, knowing that it was a good thing.
That's my name.
Maybe it was midnight and the fire rang like a bell in the hearth.
That's my name.
Or maybe you felt bad when that woman said that to you. He could have told someone else: someone who knew better about his problems.
That's my name.
Maybe the trout were swimming in the puddle, but the river was only eight inches wide, and the moon shone over I DEATH, and the fields of watermelons were radiant, dark, and the moon seemed to rise from every plant.
That's my name.
Richard Brautigan – “In Candy Watermelon”
