Minor American Cities
Jeremiah Moriarty

He never came out and said it, maybe
he never had to. The miles won.
You grab an umbrella before you step out
for work. He doesn’t choose you, not because
of distance alone; he doesn’t choose you because
he lives on the map and you live
in your minor American city. Young rain falls,
drips, pools in-between. Minor trucks honk
at other minor trucks. Minor streets sing
their potholed song. But, you think, opening
the door, the umbrella, the heart’s clenched fist, it’s
somewhere to me—

Jeremiah Moriarty is a writer from Minneapolis. His poems and stories have appeared in The Rumpus, Puerto del Sol, No Tokens, The Cortland Review, Diode Poetry Journal, and elsewhere.