going to the metrolink/june 9th
 

it's dark as hell at 

5 am, 
and it's a sharp cold which is confusing

because this is Los Angeles.

i stagger up,
i try to drink some coffee.

i know it will be hot later when the sun

rises so i pile jacket on top of sweater
on top of sweater
 on top of sleeveless shirt.

i put bags in the cold car. 
i put my coffee in the cold car.

i drive to the train station with 

the seat warmer on though my husband

hassles me about this choice when he

hears about it later.
i go stand on the platform and it's

cold there too, but the guy who

is an actor who teaches where i teach

begins imitating

the gestures of everyone waiting for the train.

he shines hot sun energy despite the darkness

while i shiver at him wondering where that power

comes from when all i can do is remember—regret—

that i left my coffee when i parked the car.

i wish i could sip and consider the actor

because he's really good and i know already— 
though it will take years—that I will write about him

and this unseasonable moment.