… on being silly putty

I Want to be Silly Putty

Old photographs,
From an old box
Tucked into the loft
Of an old barn

How long since I’ve seen these
Before the last move…
Or the one before that
Certainty fritters itself away

I see you laughing
Feel the heat from the summer sun
On that beach day
Hot sand on feet, between toes

I want to be silly putty

Kneaded and flattened
Pressed onto these images
Their memories transferring to me
In a more real and literal and visceral way

Breathe in two, three, four
Breathe out two, three

This cannot.be, I know
But just the though of it, and you
Has brought us closer somehow
And I am smiling.

Thanks for readin’.

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