Somehow, all at once,
I forgot how to tie my tie.
I don’t wear them at work
and no one was there
in the car to help me.
I looked up
into the mirror
struggling to recall
this obvious function.

I had learned too long ago
at the hands of my father
who stood behind me
before a full length mirror,
me his mannequin dummy,
he practicing on my nervous form,
figuring out the intuitive nature
of what he’d no doubt learned
from his father
a generation prior.

When he’d understood what to do,
he tied and retied
that social noose around my neck,
explaining the process
until I began my own attempts
and finally discovered
the wonders of this manly skill.

But as I said
that history reached too far back
and I had
along the way
lost the ability.
I left the car
and looked at my grown reflection
in the window reflection,
trying again
to no avail.

Without my father
to show me the way
where would I be?
How would I recover the talent
to tie my tie?

It was not my father’s voice
that whispered in the wind
saying "Google"
nor was it my grandfather
that pointed out the YouTube tutorial
but somehow
I was guided
to the knowledge
that got me dressed and ready
to enter that funeral home,
all knotted up
and ready to go.