On my second night out
I could taste it in my spit
like I’d put pennies in my mouth, but not quite
bitter, not so distasteful

Over the next couple of days
it was in my legs
hiding inside the meat
but calling out so I wouldn’t forget it

I breathed it in and
sweated it out and
washed it off my clammy skin

I smell it and feel it
and forget to even notice it
Until the people I know remind me

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