Ambition of a Poet

I used to write my name in the sand (waves would steal it and bring it to the bottom of the sea)

or on my father's car cleaning it out of the windshield dust;

in the bathroom of our high school, (where me and my friends would go for a smoke)

on the ancient stones that made up the anfiteatro (forgive me for I have sinned);

at the end of my poems, my scripts, my books.

I'd smirk at how others would pronounce it when I'm dead a thousand years from now--

When my clothes are dust and I myself ashes

nothing'll keep my name like my lover's heart.