the snow is a white wall against my kitchen window
and I refuse to leave the apartment
I call my mom who says she is tired of my *******—
the third person this week to tell me to Grow Up
as though this is some easy thing

I decide to take the blue line
all the way to Wonderland
not knowing what or where Wonderland is
just wanting to chase something

you strum August's boxstrings with so much confidence
I begin to wonder if you’ve lived this life before
screaming about war like a madman
you tell stories about Gjakova crying in snowfall

I am the last one on the train
Wonderland—the last stop
on the train
it's getting dark out
the man on the intercom says to get off
so I do

the last time I saw you
I told you you were ******* crazy
and all you could say was “you too”
but I believed you
because that’s what I do

Wonderland is circus tent dark
and littered with catcalls
the racetrack air smokes a cigarette and cackles
as February buttons her blouse
I walk towards the waves
looking for a friendly face

but there is no moon shining tonight
the sea is alone
somehow she still finds a color to cling to
perhaps she has learned to reflect upon herself

I take the train home
it is snowing again
and I am tired of your *******
I don’t want you anymore