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A dog-eared, yellowing page;
the blind spot at the corner of your eye;
the itch at the base of your spine,
There, not there, somewhere there.
I am but the past,
a frozen moment in space,
a snowflake with icy thorns,
poking you, nudging you,
kissing your ugly feet,
asking you to crush me
under your heel.
Unfreeze me,
utter an incantation
and turn me into a
watery present.