Everyone passing this window turns
and smiles. The wind loves me today,
all cool kisses and smooth hands
down South Street. We stopped
for lemonade just past the last holdout
of a downtown iceberg and resisted

a ride on the carousel. She resisted
my smiles, headed down the turns
tile past cardboard signs and held-out
cups - winter lingers and today
it leeches from our bones. Stopped
by the T-line cap and badge, hands

and pockets empty, I turned. Hands
felt for cigarettes, gloves, resisted
the urge to snowball cars (stopped
for me anyway, polite and taking turns)
waved at policeman whistling today
in the sunshine as he held out

orange flags: two if by sea. "Hold out
your coat - honey, your hands
will freeze like that!" Days like today
taste April sunshine and the girl resists
the imposition of winter, turns
and wriggles away from mommy stopped

in the middle of the sidewalk. I've stopped
for warmth at this lace-curtained holdout
of small town before South turns
into Prospect and outstretched hands
disappear. Who could resist
"Coffee and 1/2hr web - $3 today"?

Even holes in walls have wireless today.
The wind is back, the construction stopped.
I'd happily stay, but I resist
another cup of coffee, hold out
my face to the sun, my hands
to the wind, and in the street slow circles turn.