bodies in dc carolyn decarlo
When my father asks me if I feel sad about leaving Washington, DC I say no with confidence I won’t miss the short buildings or the tight streets with their order, the rushing people I’ve imagined living their sad, bureaucratic lives I won’t miss feeling scared when walking home alone from the bar or the café or the man sitting behind me in the bus who told me he had a gun at his house Won’t miss the stale summer heat My friends all moved away too, like we all couldn’t wait 101