For the Past, Resurfacing

You remind me of someone I can't remember...
your face a mosaic
composed of eyes and lips,
a nose from previous lovers.
Small details gently tugging at my memory,
attempting to stir up images long past,
but like the endless spin of a roulette wheel,
never landing on a person.

The hair is wrong.
A haircut would work wonders.
add years to a too youthful face
and you would almost look right.
Like the faint scent of dinner two floors below,
I struggle to regain the half recognition I know I have for you.
From across the room I stare openly
and try to find the boy I once loved.

I see him in every man I've been with since,
as if he were reinventing himself into every tortured artist,
every number crunching CPA,
every mother worshipping wall street master
every ethnic man serving me substandard deli food.

I wish I'd never met you,
though I suppose now it's little late.