You laughed only once all day –
when i choked out good-bye and
You knelt to tie my tattered laces.
staring mercilessly at the top of your head,
i counted the dark swirls and they
were speckled
achingly with white and the soreness there
something besides the brittle cold that
turns breaths
into cumulous clouds.

somebody across the park wears the same scarf
light pink and i can tell from here that it's that
soft kind of wool that doesn't even itch and
days from now, your future sees movie stars or
palm trees –
but right now, it's just the snow on
scratchy mittens
and pale ice that scars my hands.

somebody wears the same scarf as me
and thinks about california.
You look up at me with ice forming
along your eyes and cheeks.
for a second, i thought
You said
You'd stay.