Exchange

That day in July felt unreal.

The record spun round and round

while we ate cold pancakes.

You rummaged through your bag

and pulled out an old black t-shirt from the first musical we watched.

You put it in my hands and told me to keep it

and I gave you a flannel shirt I loved to wear.

Now your t-shirt hangs in my closet

and my flannel shirt sits on your chair.

One in Minnesota.

One in Ontario.