Vultures (Imagine it Gone)

I bet I haunt you…

I thought, while I ate soggy French fries with a half-hearted nostalgic smirk. As I prepared to blow my chapped swollen nose on a take-out napkin, memories of you tickled the blood in my veins for purposes of pure aggravation. I wanted to swat them away like those goddamn flies at a carnival threatening your freshly fried funnel cake, but they continued on. And like a terrifying fever dream, I sweat them out.  I guess my mind was tired of babysitting secrets.
These soggy French fries would be gourmet for vultures…
 The more salt on the tongue, the rawer.  And I thought of how new it was to you—the idea of having nothing to lose. Your taste buds have placed danger on repeat for quite some time now hoping you’ll seek out the message.  Now see everything you have and imagine it gone. Gone, gone, gone. You’ll squint at horizons for clues, your leading hand above your eyebrows to guide the sun along. It’s all gone. Fight or flight and what do you know, you’re gone, gone, gone.
And now I’m spent, spent, spent…
Sweating out the memories singularly, allotting each its own goodbye.  Opening the car door for your memories and tossing money to the cabdriver, hoping you’ll forget you were ever here to stay. And now my mind is thanking me with murmurs of pride as my memories are pushed aside for new ones to claim residence, and warrant their right to stay. And the veins will never be tickled again with aggravation and embarrassment. It’s funny how short the lead time is on forgetting you.
She’s young but she knows how to wear it…
And she’ll haunt you.
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