Spying for treasure
we catch
a half sideways
half backward
glance
the protagonist
trudges aloofly
towards a dim alley
New Year’s Eve
New Orleans
He’s thinking of her
and sends a photograph of
scrawling cursive letters,
a drink menu
with deliciously
witty names
appealing
to their shared
love of literature
and of her laments, how
Hemingway
has already been
everywhere
she wished
she could go.
To her,
in a seemingly small
insignificant way,
this exchange
was as close to
going with him
as she could get.
Oh,
how she longed
to sip
small deaths
with him
all afternoon.