were a bunch of pictures
neatly would I wrap them
beneath my armpit
if the rivers at home
were a drop of liquid
I would bottle enough
for my suitcase
and if the mounts
at home were just grains of sand
I would cup a spoonful
for myself
I would bring them with me
sit them on my lap
to build a treasure in my dreams
to cure nostalgia in my soul
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