April knocks,
drags in a bag of Doritos.
Tells me she’s scared.
I nod me too from my windowseat,
she comes and sits,
we munch chips.
Just like we used to,
we pretend apartment lights are stars.
Count them,
tap the glass with our nails.
Maybe he’ll live so long they’ll find a cure,
she says.
Maybe we can help,
she says.
I say
How? Find a DeLorean?
Go back in time?
That night April sleeps in my bed,
and for one brief moment,
like the steady light
of this ever-glowing city,
it feels like
nothing has changed.