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.