Winter in the New City
She writes about a city
the way she wants to write about the boy.
She writes “heart” so many times
its ache is implicit
in her descriptions of the brutality
of East Coast winter,
the skyline drawn crooked
by a shaky hand.
He moved a week after she got there
to the opposite coast.
She writes exclamation points,
questions marks,
about their phone conversation.
She says, he is telling me
it sucks that you feel lost.
That he is spending a lot of time
with another girl,
that he wants me to move on,
be happy.
He is not telling me
how to be outgoing in this new place.
He is not telling me how he feels
about us.
He is not telling me how to survive.
How badly we want the person
who led us into this new place
to lead us back out.
How shocked we are
when they leave us there,
alone, cold,
driving the wrong way
through one-way streets.
She says, I know
we could figure this out,
these feelings.
There is something
worth waiting for.
She says,
I have never been so ready
for spring.