Ode to Feeling Dumb

A poem for when you don't remember.

Their name is on the tip of my tongue.
That great event, right within my grasp.
But the pinwheel in my brain
Continues to spin around
With no hope of recollection.

I am a child watching the grown-ups
Sip pinot noir and talk political theory.
Better to be seen and not heard.
And then God asks me,
“Is not your name written in heaven?”