It is all very much the same.
You love a girl.
You are washing clothes
in a 24-hour laundromat
that doubles as a sandwich joint.
It is late, or early. It is the wrong hour.
It is 2 am and there is a stray cattle dog pacing,
stalking bent moonlight between dryers.
There is howling in the parking lot.
You lose yourself in a handful of quarters,
in the fluorescent sheen of linoleum.
So it goes. Tell me,
where do we go from here?
The girl moves west, like they all do eventually.
She bends beneath the ocotillo plant.
In the sand she writes something wild
to watch it blow away in the wind.
Samantha DeFlitch received her MFA from the University of
New Hampshire, where she is the associate director of the Connors Writing Center and recipient of the Dick Shea Memorial
Award for Poetry, as judged by Shelley Girdner. Her work has
appeared or is forthcoming in Rattle, Rust+Moth, Appalachian
Heritage, the New Engagement, and On the Seawall, among others. She lives in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and teaches at
Great Bay Community College.