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You passed me memory with the butter, over the cubes of foie gras I didn’t think I’d like but did.  You pointed out my milestone on the sidewalk as if it were glass.  I swerved and am just now thanking you.  Thank you for turning up my music, opening my car door, and holding me in your arms for a sidewalk dance and twirl in the sparkle of a winter night that tasted of wood and smelled of snow.  For holding me longer than you ought to have, and for dipping me on the street where I saw my breath and felt my smile.  Thank you for the ribbon you wrapped around my nostalgia, reminding me of what I’d forgotten… my goddamn strength and power, my fuel and my laugh, and my absurd rhythm.  Thank you for bringing back his memory for me and for the coffee and cigarettes.  I’m sleeping with a smile and a fist.  The motherfcukers can kiss my cellulite ass.

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