He must have been cool.
With his hair parted off-center
thick with pomade. A pink shirt
with pointed collar, dress white
pants, and strong cologne.
He poses the same face on every
photograph. Looking straight
into the camera. Lips slightly open.
Jaw loose so as to not seem upset.
I have his eyes I think, though
no one ever told me.
My name is not my brilliant idea
but I am known by it. My face,
my body is given as well and it
represents me to the outside.
I don't wear pink shirts and white
pants, no pomade neither.
My lips are usually shut.
My eyes look up and to the side.
If he could see me, I wonder
if I could remind him of himself.