no time to be afraid

for Leslie

“Got no time to be afraid,” said the balancing waitress,
bacon and eggs on four plates. We’re eating breakfast
at the diner, you are talking and I begin this poem. You
are thinner, more tests says the doctor. The only things
between me and death are these words, as long as I
carry them around and write them down, you won’t die,
and as long as I write and write, the words will still
fall over us like a snow shower in May, the day we sat
in the car at Schiller Park, and watched the wind blow
snowflakes like dandelion fluff onto new green grass,
tiny ice fell on us, a faint crinkle, melting on the glass.