Do you remember how cold that winter was?
I did not own a winter coat that year.
I spent the snowy months
wrapped in Walden’s grey sweatshirt
that was three sizes too large.
The tall girl and I
would drive to the waterfalls
and chain smoke in my car.
We’d sit in silence,
the nuclei in our brains
eating the songs from Iceland.
The words were nonsensical
to our English ears.
We did not understand them.
But oh, God, did we feel.
We yearned with them and cried with them.
We felt their same lonesome
and wanted to tell them
that they were not alone.
That beautiful girl
would tell me I was her only true friend.
I’d light a cigarette for her
and tell her I’d never leave.
I wonder what the lady I’ve become
would say to the girl I was then.
”You left,” perhaps is what I’d say.
I wonder how she would respond.