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the most trivial detail becomes significant
if it reminds me of you:
the hit song that played on the radio
when we drove to the beach that night
frosés, rosé —
hell, wine of any kind
pale blue towels
the smell of watermelon chapstick

memories, memories
i flip through them in my mind
until they fade and fall apart
until i am no longer sure of the little details:
the color of the straw that i put in your drink
when you came over for the first time,
the earrings you were wearing
when we met at my party
the place you threw your clothes
when you ran
under the moonlight
into the ocean


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