There are a few things I will miss,
a girl with no shirt on
lighting a cigarette

and brushing her hair in the mirror;
the sound of a mailbox
opening, somewhere,

and closing at two in the morning
of the first snow,
and the words for them.

-- Frank Wright

...

Boiling cranberries and oranges and sugar. Never Love drifting through the apartment as K sings and strums behind her bedroom door. Cat tails. Open matchbook. I can see my breath in my bank statement.