an afternoon

by Noah Uitermark

in the brutal
winter
inside a lit
table where
friends told
me to chase
her,
I’d never
given it thought
before

but she seems to like
you, they said,
and right then
love seemed
so impossible
and real

and we shivered
to our cars and
hurried home,
the blankets warm,
where the little pets
were blinking
their tired eyes
awake

that girl went
to Germany
as my face
grew dusty
and the bathroom
door
fell apart

we don’t know anything
about what’s next

helpless, we stutter
and stammer the words
through the narrow scope
of our eyes

and all we have
are the strange,
surprising,
golden few
hours in
the long run
of the dismal
era, the
dawn of
surgery
and machines.

so i’ll see
you
tomorrow, as
we wait
for the bus

i won’t have
anything
to say.