Dear Boston,

When I sent the last month’s rent, 

Landlord grunted and sighed, unhappy as a bear,

he said he always liked your concourse better.

"The capital! The capital? It’s fast, conniving, dirty!"

But DC’s blossoms fell for me last spring,

and asphalt heaved with steam for me last summer.

With you, and your Big Dig, the dust made all my roses wilt

and fall like angels onto the balcony below.  Don’t

get me wrong,  new roads made it difficult  to leave

and you always had good Cheers.

But now it’s time for us to talk.  Listen –

I’m living out my affair with this new city, I always was  

the cheating type, and dodged the local taxes.

I’m writing to make sure you know,

 I never planned to stay.

                                             -  Y our former resident.

The author is a junior English and Creative Writing major and a Philosophy minor. Born in Odessa, Ukraine, she fist immigrated to Moscow then United States 12 years ago.