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I’ve got motel envelopes and postcards unsent,
Reminders I wrote myself on cocktail napkins —
The souvenirs of my drinking years
Are like little plaques for landmarks passed by in a fog.

IOU’s for money I don’t remember lending,
And tickets on horses I can’t remember betting —
The souvenirs of my drinking years,
These little scraps from evenings passed by in a fog.

Notes left on your windshield, perhaps the wind took them.
Messages you might have left, my roommates did not write them.
We can’t fill in the missing years with missing artifacts.
We were wanton captains of two ships passing in the fog.

I did not leave a lantern burning for you.