rosemary brown park in february

i stop and sit and smoke in the park by my house on sunday
the packed snow brings my feet up high, close to the bench, and i rest on my knees
and i stare across at mclynn and this t-rex spring rider stares back
i stay there in the cold for what felt like hours (probably closer to 20 minutes.)

i go home and get nothing done and i cancel my plans. everyone is in a bad mood.
and i decide to shovel your driveway and clean up your bedroom for you
knowing the less you have to do the more time i get to spend with you
the two of us sit in my bedroom and play mario kart. it cheers you up.

monday you apologize for treating me like we're dating.
you call to invite me over when you're going to bed just to see me
and we talk about the future. what we want. i know i can cope if it doesn't turn out my way 
but right now my feelings are strong and all-encompassing.

when i write like this i want the last paragraph to be some kind of wrap-up, 
a conclusion of the message i'm conveying, a sense of closure in the lines
i'll restate my points, contextualize them—i'll give meaning to my experiences—
but i don't know how i'm supposed to do that right now.