As it turns out,
the knife had been a birthday present,
smuggled through security
in the side zipper of my smallest suitcase
seventeen years ago.
The perfect gift to give a nephew.
All the way from Spain
because those Swiss
are so cliche.
Really, we only want a knife
for one thing, the appendages
are just jewels in the hilt.
It took a minute to recognize
it buried in your chest,
but that's the one.
You're eyes were just as wide
when you unwrapped it
as they are now,
as I walk through the door,
find you in the living room
finally putting it to use.
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