That Melody

That melody's name escapes me
The way good dogs
Sometimes go off the chain.

Searching for the tune’s name
Rummaging mental files
Humming it to friends
Absorbs much time
Requires great thought
And results in extreme frustration
When no successful conclusion is reached.

Recovering that melody's lost name
Is like attempting to recall
The craters of the moon
From sheer memory
Is as remembrances stored
Through no criteria but aroma
Like the leathery smell
Of your first baseball mitt
But whose manufacturer's name is forgotten.

What is the name off that melody?

I can recall the names
Of every player on the ’68 Cubs.
I remember phone numbers of friends
From fifty years ago.
I remember the numbers on the sides
Of school busses in which I rode home from fifth grade
And the pattern of freckles across the nose
Of the girl I took to homecoming in 1970.

But I cannot remember the name of that melody!

Perhaps I will be jolted awake at three in the morning
With a victorious Ah hah!
But I doubt it.

It goes something like this…
Dah Dah Dah…Dah Dee Dah
Lah De Do….Dee Do Dee.
Does that sound familiar?

The car in which my parents
After my birth
Carried me home from the hospital
Was a burgundy 1950 Ford Custom Coupe
With a ding in its right rear fender.

Go figure.