My refrigerator is haunted by ghosts of girls gone by.
Gochujang from that crazy girl who liked to set my world on fire.
Kona Longboard in tallboy cans from The Matchbox Racer who cursed like a sailor, but kissed like a school teacher.
Moscato from The Scientist who spent her days tinkering with the windows to the soul, to give the world a brighter vision of the future.
Coors lite bottles, from the wild girl that started with hiking and a sandy cove, and ended with dinner and karaoke, and all the while whispering “popo haejo…”
And most recently, spicy buffalo sauce from the Warrior Poet who I would eat chicken nuggets with at 2am in the morning.
…I think I need to go grocery shopping.
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