recall

I can't recall details
Those tiny pieces
Of scratchy information
Sanding down the folds
of my brain

Like the names of your children
The places your grew up
I want to say, proudly
That I know you
But the details keep
slipping

And I just keep drinking
And that warm sliver
Of afternoon sun
That cuts through the gap

In the blinds
In my grandmother's
bedroom
Wait, I mean my
bedroom

The warm sliver of sun
That touches the hairs of my arm
With a fingertip touch
Shows me some things
Are still beautiful

But I shift
And I sleep
And the light does not 
follow me

And suddenly we're
talking
And you say something
I should know already
But I just can't recall.