a wish from the heart’s left ventricle

back to the building from three years ago

sneaking into the rhythm of the concierge’s nods.

I keep finding myself in places I know too well,

an overexposed photo of blurred bodies yet

my face sits clearly where it has always been

near new students that have learned to carry

their name tags in their mouths. the pink touch-me-nots

beg to be saved from the coming winter so I pluck

one to dry with heavy words and strangers

identify her as patience.

if Central Square is the heart of this town,

is it my duty to function as a ventricle? sometimes I feel

more like a clogged artery, moving slowly whispering to myself

from block to block there’s a new bar

   a new restaurant, a new bakery, a new apartment

my memory flips through blank pages, ashamed:

   what have they replaced?

not the buskers that transition us from day to night

nor the dancers who spin to the tune of strawberry ice cream.

I cannot pass by a chance to wish—the stubborn dandelion

takes many blows. a huff

to wish for a romantic end. a puff

for the appearance of abundant friends. a bluff

to say there is nothing else. little parachutes

glide into the street.

if in months they are full of weeds,

it’ll be all on me

to wish that the dancing never ends.

Me, the nickleboard I can ride in a straight line, and my home for 2020. The tree in front of Market Central stands tall with its spring blossoms. A view that feels like home. A pen sketch of Lafayette Square and the ice cream place I've become too familiar with. We walk through Chinatown to say goodbye to a friend. Dates by myself eating udon in the park. The dome featuring my favorite type of lamp to draw. Past loves and past lives in past libraries. The walk home. Stalks of sunflowers on Prospect Street. They popped up one day in the Summer, as if by magic. Abundant flowers on the side of the street. Pink touch me nots begin to fall from the bush. A lineup of snowducks. The empty branches outside my boyfriend's window are dusted with snow. This view feels like domestic bliss. Lafayette Square covered with fresh snow. No one is eating ice cream outside. Mass Ave lined with brilliant snow. Walking down the steps of the MIT dome in the snow. The street lamps reflect off the wet streets and students head home during finals. Passerbys. Passerbys. Two doggo strangers becoming friends in a park at dusk. A man offers $1 dollar drawings to a crowd in the park. A samoyed turns to look at you as you walk down the street. Sunset over Central Square. Soft glows of pink and orange settle over the city. A large purple fence with whimsical sayings. I lived across this house for two separate years. Black and white film photo of Mass Ave from above. Time seems to stand still. Mass Ave as I remember it at night, lights shining on flowered trees. Lafayette Square in the midst of spring. The large tree holds full of white blossoms yelling Spring. The Charles basked in orange glow on a leftover snowy day. A LARGE! graffiti of Perry the Platypus. In the hub of Newbury Street, four men sing sweet tunes to a crowd of onlookers. The most talented of friends busking in Central Square. A violist, celloist, and mystery man serenade the Boston Gardens at the peak of summer. A person in a bear costume and a spiffy outfit takes a break from jamming on the guitar. Scene along the Charles on a sunny day. The sky is vibrantly blue, the grass green, and runner jogs along the river. A blood moon over the night skyline of Boston. The happiest girl (me) with three free pints of ice cream. I am smooching a huge waffle cone. A dandelion puff. Make a wish! On the sunniest of days, one can find a dashing elderly man painting the scenery in the Boston Gardens. Pigeons looking absolutely lovely amongst colorful flowers. HTML energy at Tate. Laughs and flowers and sunny days with my childhood best friend. Standing in front of the Great Comet of 1812 poster after the most beautiful production. The best of coworking friends all gathered together. Central Square on a sunny day. This also feels like home. A biker zooming across the Harvard bridge. Bits of orange peek out from blue-gray sky and the street lamps feel beautifully warm. A black and white film photo of people crossing the street. It's the beatles but from the back but they're just as cool. The pink cherry blossom tree dropping blooms onto a cozy Cambridge street corner. A black and white film photo of people casually salsa dancing in the middle of the square, the sun in their steps and ice cream in the air.
To Cambridge [and Boston],

A place I’ve lived for the past 5 years, called home for the last 3, and fell in love with over the past year. I’ve spent the past months trying to put into words how I feel and realized that I had already written them a year ago. It’s a lovely feeling to be woven into a place over time. I still find so many of my threads pulling me back.

Thank you for showing me how to love a city.