Valentine's Day, And We Are Still Separated Poem by Leah Browning

After work, I follow as she does
the shopping. I see that you still love
shrimp, and a plain green salad.

At the dry cleaner’s, her silky blue
dress has been inserted between
the black and navy shoulders of your suits.

She has a red Honda Civic, and I see myself
throwing rocks through the windshield,
or using her own car to run her down

as she emerges from the bakery with a heart-
shaped cake sculpted out of chocolate,
your favorite.

Instead, I go back to my new apartment on the lake
and watch two birds steady each other on the ice,
looking for grasses, while you drink red wine
and carry her to bed.