A rent cheque.
A library card.
A union card.
Birthday cards on the refrigerator.
A credit report.
A driver's license.
Unsolicited mail-order catalogs.
Planned Parenthood bills.
An insurance ID that works sometimes.
But the only thing that proves
that this life was ever lived
is a photo from five years ago:
Two stubborn lovers
naked from the waist up
laughing in the yellowed sheets
of a queen-size hotel bed
on the Maine-New Hampshire border
with no knowledge of the ending.
For that I will save documents.
For that I'll play their game.