You hid the tickets in an old film tube
in your drug box. I don’t know why

I looked. I don’t remember what movie
it was. I only know there were two of

them. Two of you, who weren’t me. Two
who had gone to see some movie that all

these years later is nameless. I don’t
remember her name, either. I do

remember changing mine.


Prompted by Poetic Asides November Challenge, day 13



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One Response to 1991

  1. Shawna says:

    Good golly, this is excellent. I guess it takes these awful experiences to inspire a poet. I’m sorry you had to go through this, but I’m so proud of you for using that bad energy to write such exceptional poetry.

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