I left the coat on the banister and walked out

I left the coat on the banister and walked out

feeling light enough to be a problem.

The sun hit the back of my neck, a sudden shout

after months of gray, muffled boredom.

Everything is ugly in the transition.

A pile of graying slush melts into the drain,

revealing the flattened cans and the attrition

of a winter that didn't go quietly into the rain.

I stood on the sidewalk and felt the sweat start,

a strange itch under a sweater I didn't need.

We are all coming out of the dark, heart by heart,

stepping over the garbage and the salt and the greed.