Boylston and Mass Ave.

The smell of the city

I got warm feelings from a Mike’s Pastries box on the train

Like a warm haze in summer at the docks with a cannoli and a striped umbrella

The temporary bliss we lived in

Poor as we were there was sun and

July was our month,

Cockroaches and nights up crying

A boat ride to Salem in my pirate dress

Cornflower blue sheets like a glimmery dream

As I dance along the edge of 16 hour days

Candles ever burning on that shelf

Homeless gutter surfers laughing at me and my coffee

My last day off was Monday,

A month ago

Men and women that blur before my eyes

The weight of my body heavy in our bed

A bike ride along the river where your brother found his mind

He didn’t know he’d lost

Your ring left in the Target bathroom

My bones made of iron and ice cream

Rigid exterior

I’ll always remember the lemon and sage hand lotion

Staring out at the lights on Stuart Street

I was a columbine blowing in the breeze

Amidst a sea of cacti

We danced

In the living room

To old music

You played on your piano

You can order my debut poetry collection, Postwar Chocolates, here:

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