October 1970
She called me Chucky
But it was a soft Ch
Like this, Shucky
I don’t remember why
My name is Robert
Friends called me Bob
Until I moved away and
Preferred “Robert”
She was my first love
She gave me a book of poems
For my birthday, in 1970, August
In October she sent me a letter
From college
Expecting to see me on the weekend
It never happened, and then she was gone
I never knew why
2 weeks later I saw her with a friend
Patrick, recently discharged
Who can ever know the heart of a young woman
I saw her once a year later
At Kelly’s Bar on Kelly road
I was back in town
After some travels
It was a surprise meeting
And lasted only minutes
I still have the book, and the letter,
and this picture,
also in the envelope
It is 2021, and of late
I have found myself often
Reminded of her
She was my first
Pamela
beautiful writing, Bob. Robert, huh? Ok, I’ll try to get with the program.
Hmm. I think Robert is for those whom I have met since landing in Costa Rica, where the Spanish for Bob does not exactly roll off my lips. Bob is fine for old friends from the previous life, it would seem odd to me for you to call me Robert….:).