a death of a cousin but keeping him alive
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When I write a poem, I feel a thrill that makes my
heart-speed-up
like a herd of kindergarteners out to recess
galloping across the mulch
over to the monkeybars
belly-sliding
screaming
He is Christopher Davis
My cousin with many faces
No one can replace him
He is known for his crazy and goofy ways
And always dancing
Favorite cousin is what he called me
Only he could see who I really was
