A festive table set with my favorite food,
and all the Piper-Heidsieck I can drink.
Candle lights are everywhere—
sandalwood incense fills the air.
The doorbell rings—a group of delivery men
proceed to unload large wooden boxes.
Can one of them be for me?
My son, Dimitri, always a generous Buddhist,
places a wad of cash into the hands of the boss.
The phone rings. Its Tony, my old friend
and colleague, who is now 91 years-old.
He pronounces my name correctly,
but has no idea who I am.
Tony screens candidates for the position
of student counseling at his university.
He interviews me for the job.
My wife and kids chime in—reminding Tony
who I am. We were classmate doctoral students
and professional colleagues after we graduated.
Of course, he acknowledges—now I remember!
But now I realize, I must no longer exist.