9th and Nicollet

All chairs face the window
onto the street when it rains. For a split

second, I forget why
I’m worried. It makes me anxious—

this forgetting. Then I remember: that death
thing. The when, where, and why

of it. No, that’s not it.
Can I walk the mile home without ruining

all that I’ve tried to iron
flat? Will I be able to pull that umbrella

from my pack in time? Will the laundry room
be empty tonight? What a relief.

2 thoughts on “9th and Nicollet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s