Hello My Name Is

They spelled it with two 'n's instead of the one.

I wore it all day on my chest.

A sticker that told me the work wasn't done

while I tried to look like my best.

The edges are curling, picking up lint

from the polyester blend of the shirt.

It gives off a cheap, adhesive-like glint

over the smudge of the warehouse dirt.

When the clock hits five I rip it away

and feel the hair pull on the skin.

The sticky square stays for the rest of the day,

a ghost of the person I’ve been.