North Hall Parking Lot


Emblazoned with the texture of winter, I step upon

morning snow, my footfall ablaze with tenderness upon the ground. If desire took the shape of a crane, I could

be the love that gave her flight. I could carry her silvery

torso over blizzards, through smog-laden cities,

to her mate upon another continent, to a nest with two eggs.

My boots snuggle close to the coast of Massachusetts Avenue. The sidewalk marches with me. The road ahead

is barely visible. I hear the muscular engines of snow plows, witness their marigold torsos

salt the asphalt – no rush hour and little traffic.

Two schoolchildren race down the sidewalk

parallel to mine, in front of a pregnant woman who gazes at them half-watchfully. Suddenly, I am full

of longing for flight. I miss my family, my home,

everyone and everywhere I left behind. Let me tell you

I am a crane, full of longing for your heart.

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