CLOUDY GLASS

Hours later,

after wandering the park,

up and down Broadway,

I duck into a phone booth.

The cloudy glass

surrounds me on

three sides.

Through the front pane

I see a little girl with her dad,

holding tight to his hand.

A pang of jealousy nips me.

I fiddle with the quarter in my pocket.

Call Chloe.

She says Nonna called my parents,

told them all about New Year’s,

asks where am I anyway,

she’s been trying to reach me for hours.

I tell her I went to the movies,

better get home now,

thanks for the warning.

Hang up quick,

keep walking,

home.