The World at Fannin and McKinney

Suzanne Morris

February 1, 2026

On a Saturday afternoon, I am

driving through downtown Houston

for the first time since

that moment when my world

stood still in a solemn adieu

then resumed turning on its axis,

without you.

At the corner of 

Fannin and McKinney

the light turns red.

As the car sits idling, 

I find myself gazing at

the rear entrance of the old 12-story

Southern National Bank building

where I once spent all my

working hours.

Muscled out of the

latter-day skyline by

glass-sheathed towers

four times as high

befitting a world-class city

well-known for

shaking the dust from its sandals,

the buff-colored stone edifice

seems unchanged

from the time when I was 

drawn into its bustling orbit; 

and all at once I have

a feeling of déjà vu

slipping inside

the taut skin of my youth,

the sun warming

my bare arms

as I open the door on the

passenger side 

and step out onto the pavement

in a mini-skirt and pantyhose

at eight o’clock on a

weekday morning

to head for the

tall glass doors that lead

to a job on the seventh floor

that I love in a way

few people seem to, anymore

where officemates look out

for one another

and fast friendships

are made

and every year you can

count on a modest raise.

At the end of the workday

when shadows steal across

the building faces

you will pull up at the corner of

Fannin and McKinney

and I will open the passenger door

and slide in.

We are like Houston:

youthful and hard-working,

with money to spend,

betting on a future

as high in the clouds

as the skyline on view

when the traffic light

turns green,

reminding me that

all we dreamed of 

in the world we knew is

resting in peace now,

as you are.


Before becoming a poet, Suzanne Morris was a novelist, with eight published works between 1976 and 2016.  Many of her early poems were featured in her fiction, to advance the underlying themes.  Since 2020, she has contributed poems to several anthologies, and has been published at a variety of online poetry journals, including The Texas Poetry Assignment.  A native Houstonian, Ms. Morris has resided in Cherokee County for 17 years.