V.

For a while, I thought I’d found somewhere:

a harbor on the prairie.

A place to nest. 

To rest. 

Her eyes were familiar,

like looking in a mirror.

We knew each others’

demons by name. 

We took them out for ice cream,

on long drives to

country gas stations 

in the middle of the night.

The car put them to sleep. 

We shared secrets, blankets, 

family recipes. She borrowed my shoes.

I wore her alma mater in the snow. For

a while, I thought I’d found someone.