If I could forget just one thing
I think I'd want it to be
how to get from my house to
yours.
and from there,
how to get from inside my car
to inside your room.
or which couch in the living room
you always stretched out on.
or where you would keep the
orange juice in your refrigerator.
or the names of your pets.

I know how to get to your house
from mine
like the back of my hand.
I don't even have to think about it.
like running my fingers through my hair,
it's become a part of me.

I feel it would be easier to forget you,
or at least let go of you,
if I didn't remember this so well
so long after I stopped feeling welcome
standing on your welcome mat.