My walk to work this morning was all dirt, slip and sidewalk. In New York, snow means something different. It means fevered griping, though not in that particular Brooklyn way that I adore. Maybe, snow just means the ice on my shoulders has cracked and cut through me.
Either way, it snowed today.

Between this weather and my broken radiator.
The city seems set upon reminding me,
This would be better with someone.

I have always had terrible circulation, and in the cold my hands ache. Add to that my ever wobbling knees, and sometimes-I truly just need a hand to hold. There are times I have had to ask my friends,
“Could you just…hold my hand?”
The best lovers have been the ones to pick up on it, and just grab hold.
I prefer not to depend on them. Though, I will accept affection when it is offered.

Today, one of my muses wandered in.
Discussed Saturdays,
Dinner dates that were not a date.
Photographs that were taken.
(in which, I fear, my eyes gave me away)
Just when,
I was about to mention Fridays, and evenings.
All these opportunities,
And, maybe we…
He said,
“I should let you get back to working.”

So, that was today. There were also cookies, and all these measurements that have become part of every day, Measures of weight and counts of carbohydrates, inches around my waste. Miniscule promises of progress and health. I am smaller today than I was yesterday, I am dissolving the unwanted parts of me. Performing the great disappearing act we call lovely.