Red Front Door

by Olivia Nathan

Los Angeles streetlight reminds me of bad things–

 

in its grid there’s space for murder, longing.

The mountains with their little boxes of light

and the sky tanned blue above wooshing freeways

 

reminds me I once had you.

 

tonight I roll in the expansions of me not with you.

The damp night breeze spills jasmine

 

Olivia Nathan is a Junior at Barnard and an Opinion Editor for Barnard Bite. 

 

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