In Which They Are Multiplying -- MULTIPLYING!

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.

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