A ticket stub's a simple thing to toss,
To throw away, to pitch, to dispose of,
And yet today I find I'm at a loss
Regarding how these things have -- for all love --
Continued to appear whene'er I wash
The clothes I wore to TIFF screenings last week!
In white-and-tangerine, these bits do quash
My hopes of cleaned-up pockets. With a meek
And tiny mewl I fish them out and sigh.
We emptied ev'ry day, but there they are.
I quipped that they were breeding at the time,
But didn't think they really were. I'm far
From where I got them now, yet still they cling
Like memories of some long-lost dream-thing.Tweet