I put my wet socks on the radiator and take my dry socks off the radiator. Outside, it’s still snowing.
It’s snowing. All of us buy the same black coat. Leaving parties, it takes us a long time to figure out which black coat is our black coat. We go to a lot of parties because it’s always snowing.
The socks on the radiator are dry now, and warm. I put them on and put wet socks on the radiator.
It’s snowing and the snow covers the ground. On the way to a party on White Oak, we get stuck behind a salt truck and creep along behind it, watching the automatic mechanism swing left and right, shaking big grains of salt on the ground.
The party is terrible. There are blankets on the floor and there’s no whiskey. We would leave the party, but it’s snowing and we need a ride.
Snow falls in shoes hanging from telephone wires and makes perfect snow molds of the shapes of the insides of shoes.
Snow collects in open mailboxes. Snow carpets the steps and makes them soft.
Snow covers my porch and my welcome mat and nobody knows how welcome they are.
The traffic stopped us
So we stopped.
We were near Gilroy
So we got off at Gilroy.
The streets were lined with antique malls
So we each bought a felt hat with feathers
And a delicate smell of the past.
The diner had Chinese food
So we tried it. The diner
Had a bowling alley, so we bowled.
We found a box of clothes so I wore a blazer.
When it got cold, I bowled
In the blazer. When we got bored the traffic
Had moved on. When we got lost
We called a number. When we arrived
A guide met us by the road.
The hot springs were hot so we got in.
It was quiet so we were quiet.
The guide was young
So he got in with us. We were hungry
So he unlocked the kitchen. There was
A separate walk-in fridge for fruit.
The fruit fridge was full of fruit so we took fruit
To eat with the pulled-pork sandwiches
From the normal fridge. The ground
Wasn’t too wet so we sat on the side of the hill
And looked out at the darkness
Which had the feeling of water.
Amy Berkowitz is from New York City, and currently lives in Michigan. Her work has appeared in Coconut, Shampoo Poetry, and Spooky Boyfriend and is forthcoming in 751 Magazine and L4. She is a founding member of the Washtenaw County Women's Poetry Collective and Casserole Society, whose first collection of collaborative poems is called The Feeling Is Mutual.