It was high school.

Spanish class.

It was
“Pick your
nombre en Español
day.”

“Jeffrey” didn't translate
into Spanish.

So it was “Jesus”
for my first year
which, if you know me,
was a stretch of all stretches.

The following years,
I chose a new name.

My middle name is “Paul,”
after mi Padre.

The easy jump was there.

So, from then on,
in all Spanish classes,
I was known as “Pablo.”

It was seemingly sensible,
but for some reason
whenever I was called upon
it took a couple name nudges
to capture my attention.

Somehow “Jesus” stuck,
the beginning of irony.

“Pablo...”

“Pablo...”

“Pablo...!”

“Oh! Sí. Lo siento.”

09/13/2012

Posted on 09/14/2012
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