I watched your cheeks flush, colored by an air from a Calgary cold front
Your breath made ghosts spill into the night,
And gather as if they might not disappear.
I had heard a rumor you were moving back home!
But even if it was true, I did not expect to hear it from you so bluntly.
So it hung in the air like a fever, or a slow moving front
And I would not find shelter here, so I braced myself
"Out!" I cried, "out!
Are you running to or are you running from?
or does it even matter if it won't change your mind?"
When you put your hand on mine,
I knew.