In watermelon sugar

My Name

I guess you are kind of curious as to who I am, but I am one of
those who do not have a regular name. My name depends on
you. Just call me whatever is in your mind.
If you are thinking about something that happened a long
time ago: Somebody asked you a question and you did not know
the answer.
That is my name.
Perhaps it was raining very hard.
That is my name.
Or somebody wanted you to do something. You did it. Then
they told you what you did was wrong--"Sorry for the mistake,"--and
you had to do something else.
That is my name.
Perhaps it was a game that you played when you were a child
or something that came idly into your mind when you were old
and sitting in a chair near the window.
That is my name.
Or you walked someplace. There were flowers all around.
That is my name.
Perhaps you stared into a river. There was somebody near
you who loved you. They were about to touch you. You could
feel this before it happened. Then it happened.
That is my name.
Or you heard someone calling from a great distance. Their
voice was almost an echo.
That is my name.
Perhaps you were lying in bed, almost ready to go to sleep
and you laughed at something, a joke unto yourself, a good way
to end the day.
That is my name.
Or you were eating something good and for a second forgot
what you were eating, but still went on, knowing it was good.
That is my name.
Perhaps it was around midnight and the fire tolled like a bell
inside the stove.
That is my name.
Or you felt bad when she said that thing to you. She could
have told it to someone else: Somebody who was more familiar
with her problems.
That is my name.
Perhaps the trout swam in the pool but the river was only eight
inches wide and the moon shone on ideath and the watermelon
fields glowed out of proportion, dark and the moon seemed to
rise from every plant.
That is my name.