i
do not want to be
your
lemon in a soda pop
your
ice cube on top
i
do not want to float
just barely
above the surface
surrounded by
your
melting
bland
liquid
i
do not want to be
soaked in
seeped in
combined into
your
being
your
well
your
endless
lukewarm
cup of tea.

it is okay
that you do not
remember me

it is hard to
remember
anything now.

after you
they are so quick to fade
from hot to less

i do not need ice
i go for cheap

i am lukewarm
and rotten when thawed

on the beach.

you dipped your finger in my sand,
watched the grains fall off your skin:
in the multitude of what appeared to be
simply only
more of the same

you saw the ones glinting in the sun
and missed those that were invisible,
you shook off your left with right,
shaking loose points to which i clung:

my sand fell,
but i am sure you can tell
you have not rid you of all of me.