November Chills

by Lizzie Hentschel

November Chills

This park bench is tattooed with pictures of dicks

The legs are uneven, it shakes when we shift

You hand me a handful of chips from a can

and I laugh as the wind blows them out of your hand

We wave at a bus as it passes us by

above us, grey clouds envelop the sky

Tomorrow I’ll wake with a cough and sore throat

I would’ve avoided if I’d brought my coat

And I’ll text you to tell you I won’t be at school

And finish the message with “I’ll see you soon.”