discovered the joy
of cold
water
in a clear glass when
my mother poured
the drink
from a pitcher
full of ice.
we were kids, out
of breath,
panting
in the summer heat
of Barcelona,
having been
chased
down a long dusty
street.
running away from
something,
or someone.
i can't remember that
part.
just the water
and wanting more.
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