When my car finally rolled to a stop in the carport,
I turned to the bag of groceries in the front seat,
sitting quietly next to me,
and I said in a voice at once too vibrant and frightening to be my own:

“It’s time!”

But, it was only when I slipped my house keys
from the pocket of my winter jacket –
the ice dripping from the aluminum awning above —

that I noticed the bare dark trees smiling at me,
humming in chorus a classic Donna Summer song,
the beat only growing louder
as I carefully made my way to the frozen stairs rising up to my rented apartment.

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