her long
fingers, her cool palm
on my shoulder.
not her,
God no, not her,
and no, not that one either.
let's move on.
but i remember
how she'd patiently
find the spot
to scratch
as i directed her to go
lower, then
higher,
chasing it from here
to there
as itches do, and finally
finding the spot,
and me sighing
saying, ahhh, yes.
there, my dear,
right there.
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