I know two times.

I know one face.

I know one name.

I know there are more.

I know there were some before me.

I know there have been some after me.

I know there are some Mom doesn't know.

I know there are some she does.

I wonder if there are some Dad forgot.

---

Regardless, I want them.

I want their names.

I want their faces.

I want their voices.

I want their skin.

I want to know why he wanted them.

What he said.

What they said.

Where they live.

If they have kids.

Their kids' faces.

Their kids' names.

Where their kids' live.

How long ago they were.

How long they lasted.

---

I don't care about revenge.

I don't want to hit them.

Or kill them.

I want to meet them.

I want them to know that I exist.

And when they know,

when I'm real.

I want to write them down.

Without real names.

I want to tell the world's greatest

tale, greatest novel.

I want to be famous.

I want to steal their integrity.

All they are.

Make them catch whiplash,

say hey, that was my life you

played in.

And when everyone knows

that they don't have names.

That they don't exist.

I think maybe then,

after I've dabbled a bit

in their lives,

maybe they'll be sorry.

Maybe all these holes

might be

full.