jackets too tight for hats much too small
grey, brown, and black not
blue, red and green
for these are the times we struggle
more for food than we
do for love
as it is even harder to find

It was a strange place,
the Cul-de-sac.

I could hear the
echo of my scraping
steps on the
flash-froze
Ice,
a crisp wrinkle in the
sonic architecture of
the small valleyed place.

100 steps I counted
not including the
careful, measured
paces up the last of the
concrete stairs.

Wind picked up
and suddenly,
the car would be gone
if I looked for it.

Wind fell down
and suddenly,
the car was still gone,
because I didn’t quite care
enough to make sure
that I had a way
Out.