Remind Me Your Name Again | Katie McCarthy

I have a watch that tells me exactly what time it is when you stand there and look out your
window at that rock shaped like horses’ teeth and the clouds that slowly pass by
Remind me of dirty tiles, that they really should—really should—clean
Dirty with what?
Snotty kids who need help pulling down their pants and two people who thought the GAS S AT
ON attendant wouldn’t notice (but I mean when there are only three of you and two go missing
(he may work at 7-Eleven but that doesn’t mean he can’t do basic math)) and ladies whose hips don’t
quite fit in the stall (but boy do they try) and and and they really should get those tiles cleaned.

And every single one caught in the moment and every single one—

Look right—

Look left. And every single one the main character, but to me they just came across as dry

smudges in a GAS S AT ON bathroom. They—tap, tap, tapped on the stall

As heels tap, tap, tapped across the floor when we blew smoke in a plantation bathroom and

wondered why they took it all so seriously


At all those grapes. Tap, tap, tap stay popping off, but one year later

And I can’t remember what it started with. It came to a halt—




I wish the wait didn’t have to be so long.

Katie McCarthy is a student from Fort Collins, Colorado. She is currently working towards her Bachelor of Arts in English from Belmont Abbey College.