It’s April &; Winter

It is April & winter
has stayed over

in the guest bedroom
reading all your books.

& winter’s tea cup is
always asking for more.

& winter reminds you
that you once knew a girl

named April and she
was young & nothing

like winter; drank
whisky before noon

& had a voice like
tires on the gravel

parking lot outside
of an interstate trading

post. Winter reminds
you she hasn’t left

the chill running around
you like April did that

night she made her first
hundred stripping.

And then the other
chill, the cold memory

when April left you,
waiting at the bus

station on Christmas Eve
15 degrees below Zero

your heavy sighs fog the driver side
Windowwhere you draw lopsided

heart over and over again, till
you catch a chill,

you still can’t shake.



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