Poem: A Parking Lot

I stayed kissed.

I said god, god

of the glacier letting go,

god that made the mouths

of Connecticut Valley men

strong after all that

rough weather. Hands

in your pockets, I pulled

you in. The air snapped

its ten-degree

fingers. Couldn’t tell

if every crackmoney tramp 

in town was yours

already, but then—black sky,

blue stars, naked heat

at the fingertip hollow 

of your neck—

that was home,

that was here.

I live there now.

I stayed.

(appeared in Northwest Review, 2008)