Gina Myers




Love Poem to Someone I Do Not Love


You cover yourself

with another blanket

of snow. I wrap myself


inside myself.


You told me not to

go but I went. You told me

to come back but I stayed.


And so I gave you New York,


a pompous gesture

that went unnoticed.

The same as I saw myself


those final months:


a ghost in the landscape,

daily rituals set to autodrive,

& the slow fade


into the background as night


sank into night & you sat

at the bar & flirted

with everyone but me.


As if I could give someone


a city. As if you'd even want

what I have to offer.





Dirty shopping carts

in dirty parking lots.


The future I was promised

closed here in this


brown paper bag.

The hustle & flow


of a thousand empty

pockets scraping


the grey sky

of unemployment.


Who has forgotten

their sons, their daughters?


Forget my dreams:

how things were


going to be different.

Our single state recession


slumps into the new year.

Yesterday's paper


listing today's foreclosures.

My inability to be


what you need me to be.

My one companion,


a 99 cent cup of coffee.

The guarantee of something


bottomless waiting for me.