The third of December
was the first day I wore my new coat.
Green, wool,
cut to mid-thigh, big buttons.
I was walking with my head down,
refusing to meet the wind’s eyes,
and I thought about what you said
about ducks.
Remember,
about where they go when the lagoon freezes over?
So I changed direction, went to the park to see.
You were there, sitting on the bench.
You had your red hunting hat on,
and you said you liked my argyle earmuffs.
I sat down next to you.
We didn’t speak again
until I put my hand on the back of your neck
like Jane did.
Then a single tear plopped on your jeans
and you asked
if I wanted to go to a goddam show or something.