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Amongst the a.t.m. receipts in my wallet
I gotta ticket of unrequited love
It’s not as simple as the a.t.m receipts, you see —
like you could punch the numbers on the terminal
and hit the Green Key for “Here she comes” —
She never came out for me
even though she’d signed that ticket
with a blue felt-tip pen, and made promises
she would never keep.
Unrequited love, I miss you
even though you may have sung me in songs
your hopeless muse.
If you really have decided to void that ticket,
the time period has expired f.y.i.
and there is nothing you can do about it now
You’ll stay larger than life
and me — your audience, holding on to that ticket —
looking like those a.t.m receipts
wit their thermal ink….
f a d i n g
every passing day
as I strive to rub you off my memory
and punch numbers, to make a living.
Unrequited love, I miss you.