I remember the fossiliferous stones
we used to navigate the streams
and creeks that crisscrossed
our childhood — broken shards
of coral — fragments of shell
cemented in limestone — you made us

bury our favorite Monopoly pieces
under one of those cobblestones
then you made us a map — you made me

swear a pact to come back after one of us
died — so I’m here

at our streams and creeks — running
my fingers over our limestone — searching
for one pewter racecar — one pewter hat — one wild

flower pressed between
the pages of a dictionary

This first appeared in Fifth Wednesday Journal.

Image via Flickr user premasagar. Image has been cropped.

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