You are stretched out, lithe and feline, in a patch of sunlight on the taupe carpet in a sweater and jeans, the sweater fraying and courtesy of your grandmother in Maine. she doesn't remember you. the jeans tight and courtesy of the salesgirl in Savannah. she doesn't forget you and she doesn't think she could. she still remembers the shape of your hips in your denim cutoffs when she lies in her bed. she still remembers the contours of your bare midriff salaciously exposed by your crop top when she squeezes her *******. she still remembers: shoulderseyeslips freckles voice tone pitch legs toes. she still remembers.