The dogwoods fully flowered as if snow-covered
while we walk the block back and forth
where Soo-an lives.
We shuffle together side by side
in and out of the shadows of the trees
lining the street.
“Soo-an!” Mr. Hanson’s voice calls, loud enough to be
heard,
voiced to be obeyed.
I drop her hand. Soo-an giggles.
“My father will not kill you.”
“No, but he might mess me up a bit.” A rueful laugh.
I kiss her softly on the mouth.
An owl sounds in the cold air.
We pick up our pace so we are at the foot
of the drive quickly.
We press our hands together. Soo-an rises
up on her toes and kisses my lips.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Soo-an.”
I watch her walking to her front door.
The porch light out, I turn for home.
Hands in my coat pockets.
A cold walk, the two miles.
Lyman 2022
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