The Mayfly
Our first kiss was a deathless Mayfly.
Ten years onward, we sit
in a Doctor's waiting room
as sniffling strangers.
She smells of baby-puke.
Sometime later,
she tries to sell me a cellphone
in Radio Shack
(still no recognition).
Sadly Radio Shack,
like long forgotten kisses,
is now a dead Mayfly.
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