Correction

Walking down the street in Rome
yesterday, I realized that his name
wasn't Alfred, but rather Dr. Dolittle.

I wrote a piece about that, but
lost it as I transferred it to my
computer.

And then today, I realized that
his name was probably Alfred
Dolittle, though if I had to

swear on a stack of bibles, and (even)
if it truly was a formidable stack, then
I couldn't say for sure what I used to call him.

Which all makes me further suspect
history as a precise accounting of
what happened, one day, very very long ago.

If we can't even trust the horse's mouth,
How can we trust anything?
The journalist wants multiple sources,

even if one is very very good.
But here, I'm not sure if I ever
told anyone what his name was, or is.

I do remember that I did
want to befriend Dr./Alfred Dolittle,
because my speech wasn't good,

and I thought he would interpret
what I wanted to say
to my parents and friends.