What's in A Name?

At present our only true names are nicknames. - Thoreau

No two were the same.

Endearing and telling, it became a monicker game.

My father worked with 'Garlic Joe'.

His breath smelling like, well, you know.

A few houses down, a neighbor fond of wearing a duster.

Her lustrous locks in a cluster.

 Strutting her trash to the curb wearing rolled-up knee-highs.

You can just imagine the heavy sighs.

Kerchief wrapped tightly about her head.

Filling the neighborhood with dread.

She was dubbed 'Lana Turner'.

A real head turner.

Pin-up barn burner.

Loose-lipped Rich became 'The Snitch'.

A real son of a b***h.

There was the guy who couldn't leave things be.

He was called O.C.D.

The lottery ticket addict with holes in his pants that he'd patch.

He became known as 'Scratch'.

The guy who broke all the furniture in his room and couldn't stop.

He was deemed 'Karate Chop'.

The chain smoker was 'Cig'.

The city drunk, 'Swig'.

The guy with the weird hair, 'Wig'.

Not to forget the pot-smoker, 'Sprig'.

The old man who couldn't remember names and mistakenly called Vera, 'Vita'.

Whilst sipping his marguerita.

It was just her luck.

The name stuck.

The names were private and not meant to bring shame.

They captured essence and stood to proclaim.

But then again,

what's in a name? ...

Author's Note

"Writing your name can lead to writing sentences. And the next thing you'll be doing is writing paragraphs, and then books. And then you'll be in as much trouble as I am!" - Thoreau