The Monkey on My Back

We joined together.

You on my shoulder
climbing up my back
wed spend hours in the heat of
a jungle summer
you picking at me
finding imperfections within my hair
maybe small insects
something
for you to fix
to eat.

There came a point
when the picking stopped
that became more noticeable than
a cool breeze
under the protection of shade.

When inevitably it would recommence
there was nothing
I could imagine to be
more satisfying.

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