Has there ever been a poem about the moon hanging over
a transit center?
It looks as if it were balanced on a construction site crane above
a line of people waning in the cold hoping
for their next connection. I think of the day you
wanted to follow me
home and I wouldn’t let you — you wanted to pull
me back from my distant, dreamlike
into your self-centered world, and I resisted
because resistance is my best game. –You have a certain look.
I wouldn’t mess with you.
a friend’s roommate once said, deciding not to worry about
me as I walked home alone after dark.