After This (First Published in Linden Avenue Literary Journal, Issue 31, December 2014)
A round moon rises over Chicago.
There is no darkness for 25 miles.
The concrete is absolute.
We fish for dinner in small bars
At the edge of Uptown.
We munch on traffic. I drink
The neon lights.
Her and I talk about the moments
After this: August, Heading West, Jobs in Seattle.
She is from Chicago. I happen from the North.
The snow is a dream inside me,
And my life flits like eyes in a storm.
Someday the beautiful, excruciating wreck
Of all that’s happened will find itself a poem.
Until then, two old friends, slowly learning
The alphabet of years.