there was still frost
on my car when i left
i know you disapprove
of the way i drink my coffee
the little things we say
between silences stretched
like a string from hand to hand
i drink my coffee much too sweet
sugar neutralizes the bitter taste
and you wonder
where the point is

the night sits cold and crackling
smoke stirs around the edges
anonymous burn
there are certain things
that i remember
my father on some nights
would sit outside
our front door
watching a storm pass
the lit tip of
his cigarette
burning orange against
a ruse of broken glass

i helped you cut
your hair the night before
music was playing and
none of your windows
had curtains
they let in the timid air
unhindered
your hair fell
stiff and silver
little needles piled
in the bathroom sink

January and it's spring already
clouds have drifted
from the mountains
the sky mocks
with clear eyes
and you say
that we're in this
together
like a pair
of ungloved hands

count the ducks
on the water
gentle lines
lain silver
discarded
in their wake

in sleep
your hand fell
heavy and warm
on my bare hip

there was a snowstorm promised
on the morning news
and as i tossed old clothes
into the garbage
i thought of a bird
i saw once
dark feet curved around
the handle of a shopping cart
he spread his wings
in the limp winter sunlight
and cried one harsh note