You don’t need to try again, doctor, really

I honestly can’t remember – What am I?

Address? Where do I live? Hold on –

Ah! I seem to recall, I live in

those clothes, my son’s clothes, other people’s

sons’ clothes. There are a lot, I always wash them

Hold on a minute please, my son’s crying, ah!

This boy, since he was four, his father

has been tracking his progress from a portrait on the wall

these clothes, I live in them, but

then the fire came and drove us out. Ah, no—

That’s not right. I live behind, right, yes,

and they live in front. I don’t dare to go there because

that woman will strangle me—with her eyes

she’ll choke me with a silk band. Her voice, building up

cold, a wall, keeping us apart, me and

my son. But those flames are coming

they’re so unreasonable. My neighbour walks

shouting for me to run. Doctor, please come quickly

help me get something, that suitcase, that

kettle, yes, that one. And here,

this pot, hurry up, Doctor, it’s too late.

The fire was set by the homeowner, I’m sure of it

I’ve owed him rent for so long, it must end, all of it

all the begging, my landlord believes so,

I want to hug my son, he’s crying, but

oh! I’m mistaken, that’s not

my son, he’s not tall enough, sh!

He wants to help me dry the clothes, Doctor

but, I wash the bucket of clothes, and I turn around

and he’s taller than me. He hangs his clothes

saying he can fly. Clamp, and that piece

it flies, and you have to compensate. But I don’t

see how he flies. He just walked in

that door, the one made of glass, and then

gave me a whole load of hope. Uncle

look again, what is he saying now, can I trouble you

I don’t know how to read, Uncle, ah, no, Doctor. Please

don’t ask me again, I can’t quite remember, it’s too vague

the door was so thick and the aircon so cold. He walked over,

he finally came home, I know. Because that woman

isn’t coming home, her skin is too sensitive

in my room, there’s bacteria

my granddaughters said so. They’re adorable, my son’s

daughters. They never once let me touch them,

their clean little hands. So I know, Doctor

he finally came back. My son, it’s him.

My relatives and neighbours said he’s here

their eager eyes pry him out. It’s really him.

Him, and he brought a gift too, a foreign brand

– my daughter-in-law and my granddaughters. It’s so cold

the aircon. Thank you, Doctor, that’s much better

if you were just my son. If I just

had a son, that would be good. But I don’t have

an address. Where do I live? Someone’s knocking

Doctor, why don’t you open the door? Someone’s there

I heard it, it must be him, he’s finally back

since he was small, he was always so sensible, my son

he came over and handed me the dry clothes

came over and gave me hope to hold in my arms

now, Doctor, look, he’s coming over

he said, he said she said, the house is too small, next weekend

they want to take me there, where it’s so warm, that

old folks’ home. But, Doctor, no

that’s not my home. They made a mistake. But

they’ll come and chase me, like that fire, so

I went to look for my son, he was gone

then, I forgot where I live.

What am I? Let me think, hey,

I remember my name. My name is

garbage, yes, garbage, useless. I heard

my name, floating, from those gentle, sweet

lips. I remember, I remember who I am, but

really, I can’t remember anything at all, Doctor.