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Oct 2017
I remember sitting by the river smoking with Tommy.
The snow melt had already carved a new pathway through the bank.
He talked about his friend who was moving to town, to work with us.
You were best friends since middle school, he told me.
Somehow I remember that conversation but I don't remember meeting you.
And here I am, writing poetry to forget how much IΒ Β need you.
Emma Brigham
Written by
Emma Brigham
276
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