The wrong stop

I’ll never be as important to you as I want to be
thought I could be

thought I was.

The face I saw look at me laughing in cold November

so happy
I finally had it - 

or crying in December at the Palmer, or

laughing again in April before

Jeff died or
Greg left or
moving or
start my last quarter with a 2.85 or 
go on short term disability or 
get diagnosed with PTSD or 
consider long term disability or 
cry alone in an empty train station 7 miles from home
in the next year’s cold November -


is not at all the face not seeing or hearing me cry tonight.

You have fun with your adult wife and adult friends with whom you can do adult things that I can’t do anymore. 

My adulthood has already passed.
A hot late September day in Chicago.

Cold January winds in Chicago tonight.