In the Snows of My Twenty Fifth Year

By | 25 June 2023

Took a walk down 75th
street & suddenly I wanted
to buy pizza. For heat &
something to push my tongue
through. I was thinking of you
while the sun was thinking
of how the trees remain
despite themselves. I want to be
plainer. Like simple verbs
of snow cresting the windowsills.
To write less and do more
to desire. People circle the day
in ice-rinks, holding hands
not their own, while birds teeter from
streetlights and sing on the outside
of love. I want to say I am
carrying a bouquet of black
flowers instead of an umbrella.
I want to say I am holding it
against the sky’s pale attempts
at touch, thinking that it might
save me. How the cold makes you
escape in all the wrong ways.
Tonight, the city announces
its solace like bright empty glasses
clinking beside a birthday cake.
A quarter of a century ago, I was
thinking of nothing, not even you,
& I was the closest to water I have ever been.

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