251poem

July 12, 2011

A day in which tires turn near the curb
and railroad ties stretch to both horizons.
The few trees sprouting through the sidewalk
look naked, wind-shook of their winter leaves.

Groups of three sometimes four girls cross
the street as if the cold was a summer hiccup
and their jackets and scarves just temporary
cloth until their skin touches sun and vice versa.

I will not describe the night. It’s too dark to bear
when everyone feels farther away than the moon,
and through the window a cash register computer
stares blue at the face of a woman I used to know.

LOCATION: Buenos Aires, Argentina – Bike riding after midnight through Palermo past the restaurant where Mariana works.

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