Walking not to some place
But from
I remember a sky filled with Wyeth clouds
Resting on deserted bleachers
He asked if I was cold
My t-shirt arms were tight across my chest
But I shook my head with a quiet no
He ignored me of course and
wrapped his jacket around my shoulders
Always preferring Southern chivalry
I slept in that coat
For a single hour
But for months after wards
I could inhale the scent
Leather, wood smoke and whispers