a quiet walk back in the first snow of the year

there is something about snow that takes me back to last year

this time last year,

I had WH and JKm

and I had this coat and this breath of cold air and these yellow street lights

these I still have.

there exist those I no longer have


I did not have these white leather high tops

or these jeans

or this hair


the snow gathers at the tip of my shoes like a dollop



it’s a group of black figures hurling their joyful bodies in the snow at 1:30am

it’s a trudge up 3 flights of stairs and an empty room and a sigh

and a solitude

it’s a fresh, thin coat


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