stolen kiss

I have a souvenir
from my first trip
to Cambodia
that I carry with me
everywhere I go

it is roughly
the size and shape and shine
of a half dollar coin
polished by friction
over the years
initially a deep burnt
purplish-brown
the color has since
faded to a mottling
of creams and tans

it was a gift from
my cousin’s moto
from its exhaust pipe to
the base of my right calf
a searing kiss
the likes of which
I’ve yet to (want to)
experience again

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