last winter

i slipped on ice, but saw it happen
cold catching breath in laughter,
hair parting, widened eyes,
then a sympathetic smile

i limped along and hugged your arm,
my free hand round a paper cup.
having grown too cold to talk
we took the A line home

over bridges, under buildings
a city blurring past us
that we didn’t even notice
because though she was burning
we were still alive

so we drank in hotel lobbies
and wandered museum halls
admired metropolitan marble
while rejecting strangers calls

whoever built this city
i’d like to thank them now,
though these towers have since crumbled
that winter was our summer
and would never see the fall

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