Coal Oil Point No. 14

That year spent without her in the streets
I saw the way of things
how her city smiled on
ice-like
in the afternoon
and glittered at night.

And now
months later
I go down again
chewing on a cigarette and
walking.
Across town a door slams.
A woman wakes and
puts her hand out
in houses I have left.

William Timberman