We laughed over coffee in the wide, wide windows of 85*.
We tempted each other with strawberry buns and green matcha pastries.
We shopped like there was no tomorrow. We planned like there were guarantees to life.
March purred like a kitten. We waited for promise of ideas in showers of moonlight.
As winter waned, we rushed home in fear.
This week, last year.
We learned to love each other deeper. We learned to be kind.
We changed direction within four stiff walls and built cities in our minds.
As winter wanes, this week, this year,
kiss every dawn, treasure every happy tear.
A Statement Of Poetics
The long covid winter has has taken so much. Our days languish. Our nights persist.
And I have adopted men’s pajamas.
The need for attractive shoes disappeared within weeks of the lock-down; the stylish pants and dresses went soon after. By summer, we donned our yoga pants and tennies. When the first chill of autumn blew the leaves from the trees, we switched to sweats where we have lived quietly, but not quieted, through the holidays – unveiling pretty sweaters in our above the waist zoom camera-shots.
January sprung confidence in the new year. But February rolled in, hope stilled in the cold snow, and it happened. The wind chill dropped and the dryer broke. Sitting on the coffee table, a forgotten gift, still wrapped – I tugged the ribbon and unpacked the thermal flannels. I studied them begrudgingly for a single moment before I slipped them on.
The lust for spring freedom is shackled. It can waste away in dreams now.
I have donned men’s pajamas and may never leave my writing desk ever again.