The air around my fingertips, cold and crippling,
I dodge into a violin store after buying a $7.00 pack
of Parliaments from the gas station.
I meet a man in a coffee shop,
piercing blue eyes, they stop my path,
I stumble into a compliment, smile
and get shy, introducing myself.
We exchange energy and go about our days.
I take pictures of a lady reading the newspaper
in the window. I wait for my soup and take it to
go. Sit on the sidewalk of a jewelry store and
have strangers pass and wave. Olympia is nothing
like what I pictured.
Sitting at work, the air wet from the night's rain,
and heavy with thoughts about Haiti and Maggie's family
and her missing husband, accented slightly by Bon Iver and
St. Vincent, I sit here, and my soul remembers Washington.