Tuesday, February 05, 2013

mdcccxxxi

Between breaths I press my palm
into the small ditch that runs
beside my heart.  A warmth,
an unrecognizeable but perhaps
comforting warmth?  Still, no one
waits for me.  I buy a new set of
cards.  No one waits.  I read for a
while.  I pilfer through bookmarks.
I get coffee at Sutter and Stockton,
decide that it’s too windy to sit
in Union Square.  I do a double-
take thinking she says “This is a
five-star romance.”