The Rug We Bought Together

The tea we bought together, the Ikea shelves we bought together, went and got from a beautiful woman from Craiglist, the gifts your parents bought for me, the curtains you bought for us, the candles I bought for you, the other rug that we bought together, the bed you gave to me, the records I ordered for you, the mirror neither of us remember getting, the map of Oakland we picked out together at Temescal Alley, the loofas we bought each other at the grocery store (believed to be thrown away), the print we found and never decided on what it was, hung it up twice anyway, the movies, the jars, the plates we got together and you said we would never need more than three, a few of the things that cannot be split in half, and I try to remind myself that it us, that we are like that.