Validation

I found the receipt in my wool coat pocket.

It’s from the cafeteria, three weeks before the end.

I remember the way the yellow plastic puck

started vibrating on the table, a frantic friend

trying to tell us the soup was ready.

You were looking at the IV bag, or maybe past it,

and I was talking—God, I was actually talking—

about the parking garage and how they wouldn't validate.

I spent our last three minutes complaining about four dollars.

I made a joke about the ticket machine being broken.

I didn't say 'I love you' or 'Thank you' or 'Wait.'

I just gripped that little plastic circle and felt it shake.