Walking with a memory

Walking with a memory of you

under my umbrella

to the bus.

Eating a breakfast sandwich

in the rain.

I stopped to argue my case

but you were not there.

 

 

 

Late Winter

Portrait

Sitting

in a comfortable chair
on the third floor of the Whitney center.

Chunks

of ice packed snow slip off the
Basilica’s dome — gradually picking
up speed then crash into the roof
of the sanctuary.

Oaks

in Loring park are weighted
— heavy with last night’s snow.
Last night my

lover

opened the window
— much too early in February—
before we slept.
The

“glow”

kept me warm under the intoxicating smell of sex.