Wicker Park

She moved in on a bright Saturday morning and

I ran into her as she wheeled her suitcase

Full of clothing down the stairs into the rehabbed

Garden apartment across the hall from me.

We had a brief introductory exchange and it suddenly

Hit me that she was strikingly lovely with

Sunny blonde hair and a nice figure

The kind of girl that did not hang out with small

Korean fellows like me.

“I’m from Dallas,” she said. And I replied,

“Well, you’re just in time for the winter.”

She did not seem to find this so amusing and

I tried to flash a friendly smile that just fell

Kind of flat.

I went back into my place and turned on the

Stereo to listen to some comforting music letting it

Fill the air with the warmth I could not create

By myself in a big empty

Apartment.

I wondered if I would die before I got the chance

To kiss a blonde haired girl as I put the espresso

On the stove — the same espresso I sit here drinking

As I write this light Saturday

Afternoon poetry.