getting screwed
or
knowing when to keep your scarf on

things started out well
to the tones of his laughter
and conversation that feels endless
like a kiss you never want to leave
satisfying. wholly intangible.

later, upon stepping outside
i fall out the door
full on into at least two feet of snow
while talking on the phone
we laugh and forgive ourselves.

while slipping out of wet clothes
i say how did snow get there?
and search tirelessly for my chapstick
contemplate leaving the house late and unexpectedly
knowing the measure of the music’s end

until later

when the realization stings – too late
like ice on naked flesh
no matter what
we’re always what we are
and where

right now i need a hot bath and the divinity of sheets against skin