A Series of Three Poems

I take the red line to Broadway instead of
Halstead- because there is a tattoo shop
there and I like to say hello to
Hank in the backroom.

But you must be uncomfortable because
you subtly tug on my camera bag
and you want to go outside.

And you blame this depression
on winter, but you will never leave
Chicago-- no matter how fucking
cold it gets here.

And "in a minute," really means
"Let me finish my conversation."

You're upset, it seems, because you
do leave and stand outside tracing
letters and shapes on the frosty
window.

I follow, my back turned while
I say goodbye to Hank. I ask
if you want to slide down the sidewalk or eat a snowball.

But both your ankles are shit and
I remember how last winter I
was able to throw snow down your
front side and you would hug me tighter
to make it melt faster.

& you're not wearing gloves, so I place
my hands inside my pockets too and
ask if you have the CTA card.

------

It's your birthday in eleven days
and I've had this postcard for two
years that says just that.

And the last time I was with
you, you were ******** ** ***
**** *** ****, but

I did mean to send the postcard to you
two years ago-- when you were
just a boy.

But we're in college now & it doesn't
work that way anymore. & I've
always had the correct postage.

Except this time. Except this
time you call me to tell me
just that. That you have notice
after notice of my postcard.

And that you have to walk
to the post office in Urbana, IL
to get it & you also have to
pay the 60 cents.

But let it rot.

Perhaps-- even now-- I wanted
to be unknown sender
rather than an ex-lover.

------

You become a vegan to lose
weight. But maybe that was a good
thing. Perhaps you needed the
discipline, because you don't
read the fucking labels.

And you trusted me to make
dinner that night.

But I guess you fit in
now. Which is what you
wanted, but you're a photography
major with the same camera
as every other fucking
photography major at Columbia.

But it's not your fault.
You love the city and will
never leave its skyline.

And you'll tack photos
around the room in a single
line and spin, and spin, and
spin in that 360 degree circle. And
you'll fall in the middle &

the skyline photos will continue to
spin. And you'll blend into
the carpet-- your nose ring will
be the only thing left behind.

-sonja lynn mata