“Already winter,” you say to yourself again
Turning the words over and over
As though they were as worn out as an old good luck charm
Your breath escapes your body
You remark that it is your soul rejoining the atmosphere
And when it is all used up, only the body remains
But there is no one there
Suddenly, you feel so small
“Maybe if I had called or kept in touch,”
You say again, this time out loud
Startled, you don’t even recognize the sound of your voice
As your hands stumble to turn thе key
As if afraid of being forgotten, thе engine of your tiny car roars to life
Cold air blasts out of the vents
You have one short drive to figure out how to explain your long absence
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