Amnesiatic friend

I have a friend who suffers from amnesia.

Like in memento, mind of magnesia.

Saying everything is not enough just twice.

Be it a joke or some really good advice.

If I explain how he should do stuff,

I create a story, just some fluff.

It’s more fun for me and for him,

Might even cause his limb to touch limb.

These stories I make are different every time,

And I, sometimes, even make them rhyme.

I do this to stop it from being boring.

A story times a hundred and I’d be snoring.

The first time he asked me why tickling exists,

I told him of the pixies rhythmical twists.

The second time it was electric shocks,

The third time the truth in colorful socks.

He doesn’t know I do this, I think,

It doesn’t matter, it wouldn’t even sink.

The point is it makes it more fun for me,

With a trick like this, I’ll do it with glee.

When I talk to him, I’ll be happy,

No of repetition, I won’t get snappy.

This makes his life slightly more superb,

And, every time, I learn a new verb.

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