Counting all the affection gained
and lost over the years makes for
a strange map of your life.
Faces, times and places relegated
to the dustbins of years seldomly
seen except through the fogged
opaqueness of late night libations.
I wonder if they ever think of me
in passing thoughts at random
times. There is a certain joy,
a certain sadness that comes
thinking of all these things.
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