Poetry – Memory Collector

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I collect memories,
or perhaps, more accurately,
they collect me.

They've taken over the bed
and the bedroom.
They've wandered down the hall
to congregate in the guest room.
Still too crowded, some migrate
to the couch, the stove, and the fridge.
A few have even taken up swimming
in the bathtub
or driving my old Saturn.

Like Tribbles,
or Gremlins,
they multiply fast -
and require constant supervision.