It takes years
To come back
To familiar places
Sometimes…
But my dreams
Always tend to take me back
To the quay where we stood
And threw his body
Into the sea
And you had chuckled
And said
“It feels like some sort of
Italian Mob movie”
And the nerves made me laugh too.

I remember thinking –
No, wondering –
If the fishes found him to taste good…

I remember whistling
That tune
From that Tarantino movie
About the woman with the samurai sword
And you joined in
And whispered
“How long does it take
For a body to disappear
When you chuck it into the sea?”
I didn’t know.

And we left it at that.
And went home
And never visited that place again.

We’re twenty five now,
And standing on the quay
Again
And wondering if the shoe they found
Floating around a few months ago
Had anything to do with us…

And I remember
Staring up at the stars
And thinking that
There seemed to be less and less
The older I got.

And I heard you laugh
And say
“You know what’s funny?
They always say that
Every criminal
Goes back to the scene of the crime.”

I had never thought
Of us as criminals
Until then…

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