It’s amazing the things we can’t forget; like the a conversation with a long lost friend, the cover of a book, read so long ago that you can’t remember who wrote it, or the face of that acquaintance you can’t quite put a name to. Or the lines from a poem; even if it means nothing to you (yeah right).
“She must be…she must be his favorite place in Minneapolis.You are a souvenir shop where he goesto remember how much people miss him
when he is gone.”**
Even as i took a long hot bath, wore my pajamas and jumped into bed, the verse kept on running through my head. So i got up, took the last bowl of chocolate ice-cream and picked up Michael Chricton’s Disclosure (no more self help books for me) to finish the last chapter.
It was a little after 10:00pm when my phone started ringing. The name that flashed across the screen read Kwesi. “You are a souvenir shop where he goes…”
I can do this, let it go to voice-mail, let it go to voice-mail, let it go to voice…
“Hiii Kwesi…”
**full poem by Sierra Demulder here
Chocolate, Cupcakes & Kola 