She used the stadium. I would have
chosen the bridge. We’re not even
Division One. Our tailgate crowds
are mostly enthusiastic about beer.
Sunlight in the trees. Sunlight
in the trees. I thought these
feelings would be blonder,
quieter, like that virus
that doesn’t kill you but kills in you
what tells you to wake up.
All the good and bad souls who
size me up judge a different woman
than the one you used to know:
two-room apartment with a view of cold
as imagined by lack of snow,
nut and honey cookies from the baker
for three weeks only to entice the spring
and later year-round because we can’t wait
for anything anymore so we forget what
the sweetness was supposed to mean.