i want to be the memory
triggered
(like a AK-47)
in her mind
when she unearths
that crumpled photo,
buried under a mountain of
clothes and papers,
when she gazes back into
the green of the grass and the
red of the towel
the itchy kind
her parents hopefully wouldn't
mind getting dirty
her hands in mine
our warmth,
i just want to be the memory
that triggers
a secret grin on her face
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