Love letter to DC

I generally write poetry when I'm feeling jaded, nostalgic or upset. I suppose I should celebrate the fact that I don't write poems much these days, right? Anyhoo, I wrote one for the motherland. Still needs editing, but you get the picture.


Parting Words

After dark on the breaking point
of summer, an ambulance flits
past my apartment, sirens swimming
through hushed humidity.

The man upstairs with the yellow fingernails
ambles from the sofa to the fridge,
the television sighing in the corner. My love
dozes next to me, barely clutching his novel.

The final moments of one vignette—
three years of window-shopping
and fist fights; whispered communiqué
and clever glances—
stumble to their close.

Worthwhile trysts crave volatility:
August in this city pants
smog on dry-cleaned clothing;
afternoon thunderstorms sob
on pedestrians like tears
I spilled when my first love left me
for good.

The girl across the alley dances
naked in front of her open window
and I stare at the green-framed photographs on my wall,
envision wrapping them in week-old newsprint
that affirm: I am leaving you.

At my most pathetic, I used to envision him
taking me back: rushing to my doorstep
in the midst of his mistake. He never did
return the way I’d imagined. But I know now
what truly warrants heartache and I want you
to take notice: you hold everyone worth
holding. You must know,
city of my misfortune, my regeneration,
I fell in love with you just in time
to give you up.