leaving amanda's with annie at one thirty

leaving amanda’s with annie at one thirty

a.m., after having sat around her kitchen

dishing about our ex’s for hours,

the white christmas light lit trees

lining pike

and both of us singing along

to “elderly woman behind the counter

in a small town”

 

in low voices, the black ice ahead of us,

the black ice behind us.

PoemJim Burlingame