Parker Street

It was Spring - no, Winter.

I think someone said it was afternoon.

It was late morning and

the clouds were slow but high and gray

on Huntington and

You ran to me,

You gathered me in your arms

like a child. You spun me in circles.

Around and around - the years went by.

The sun was blinding.

Were the leaves falling? It was nighttime and

I’d never seen you smile so wide.