Will I miss this city
the way one misses a place
or the way one misses a person?

Why am I thinking this way?
I have til spring and there’s not yet snow

We find the end at the beginning
or in the middle
Whether we look for it or not

My shoulder is cold against the stone of the doorway
A couple across the street swipes through pictures on a phone – I think of grandchildren
There are workmen invisible on a scaffolding with electric tools and jokes I can’t translate
Cars thump on cobblestone
and a beautiful girl glides by with her head down

All this. Just this.