a squirrel trafficking in
moments
smells
sounds
tactile memories.
I smuggle milestones and mind's-eye memorabilia
through a synapse pipeline of pleasant pathways and mundane methodicals.
I store you up
for me
for tomorrow me
the one in poverty of today you.
I wouldn't need to
mark down, record, push
these memories into my flawed brain if you didn't keep
fleeting away
mercurial
new by the hour. So
I store you up
already missing you.
