it's late February
and I saw the men on ladders
taking down Christmas lights down,
pulling strands from clumps like tufts of cotton candy,
Latin pop blaring from rolled-down van windows.
I was walking down beneath these canopies,
sipping coffee and watching my breath,
the holidays being dismantled before my very eyes,
and I thought back to where I was last Christmas.
I was so tired of movement.
my face was sunburned from my own rolled-down windows,
clicking odometers and rumble-stripped roads
but you gave me a place to rest:
and as I fell asleep,
my head on your shoulder,
while you squeezed my hand
and kissed my forehead
and I thought
So this is how it feels.
...seems like they under-exaggerated."