into the small ditch that runs
beside my heart. A warmth,
an unrecognizable 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.”
