Three Exits Past Memory Lane

We parked up three exits pasts Memory Lane,

you pushing keys on an old Nokia brick,

waving it across my seat for signal

while I sipped water,

bottled and lukewarm.

I didn’t say this was a waste,

though it was

of something.

You-

You and your chase

for old conversations,

old moments,

an old haunt

you forgot and then remembered.

I stayed silent,

sipping water

and watching you wave.


Written for Inspiration Call: Creative Talents Unleashed list three.

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