i don’t remember most- remind me of what preceded us stealing bittercresses together,
the pebbled river tapestry-ed against my books-what books?
remind me of the skyclad skirts and lemon candies we shared many a winter afternoons-where did i
buy them from?
the less i remember, the more i miss-almost as if you can’t miss what you remember clearly.
je sais que je l’ai câlissée là.
write more, write often.
here’s most of what you need to know-
nostalgie de la boue cartwheel around our
the wayward applepie wharf rocks lonely
we painted the beige nursery together with wrapped egg-beads
only to lie
aching for the worn-out skateboard,
can you come, take with you the brokenlegged rocking horse?
-it winks one left eye,
still scares me as shit-
no, as baba’s ink-squirting octopus that he closed
within fat pages with a thudresounding,
the yo yo handed lupitadoll, first gift when a month old,
is thrown on the pile of baba’s old cassettes-
will not be put-together again.