I. Twenty Feet

Recognition like a nagging cold
Shivers down the brain.
Brief supposition of who
This is supposed to be
Someone you once knew.

II. Ten Feet

That brown hair,
those brown eyes.
Clarity of face
And disparity of recollection
Asks the question
Do I know this person?"

III. Two Feet

The mental VCR turns on.
Sophomore year. Economics.
Laughs shared over bread
and circuses.
Names never exchanged
Between prisoners of lecture.
You think it might be Dave.

IV. Minus Two Inches

"Hi, Dave," is still
lodged between your teeth
As you lose the names
Of all the faces
Floating by yearly.

(c) Deanna Rubin 1997, 1998