i’m addicted to the smell of gasoline
my battered shoes carried me by the railroad tracks
where we used to swallow bitter tequila under the speckled sky
do you remember?

i kept dried citrus tachibana peels in a musty shoebox
and conch shells that sounded like the ocean if you pressed your ear to them
snail shells too, you used to pour salt on them and laugh
do you remember?

our peacock feather collection is in my favorite bowl
along with the earrings i stole
you said i looked beautiful
do you remember?

we took a stroll at night once
and we saw that man with the bullet in his head
and the dried blood turning brown
do you remember?

our hearts were bound together by shoelace
we skipped rocks in the nearby pool
too afraid to go home

“do you remember?” my pen traces the ink
on the 254th letter to you
i seal it with my lips and hurl it in the shoebox with the 253 others

i guess i’ll never know