For Rembrandt, love of my life.

Rimbaud,
were you next door
with Verlaine
or in a bar
or in a church
when the tables
were turned by
an invisible hand
against us
my heart was snatched
from our star
& stuffed down
a chimney stack
full of eyes &
knock knocking
on a door & a cry
as a pistol shot
rang out in sepia
do you believe
in women made of paper
folded into dancers
for suit-clad spiders
by doses of poison
if so hold this song
between your fingers
say a prayer
or just curse science
or the shadows
of a trashed childhood
any in memoriam
will do right now
when I still love you.

First the signs and then the noise -
Insistent, honking, grinning boys
Announcing City snow-ploughs

What's this raucous clarion call,
This four-note trumpet klaxon?
It's the boys who tell the world
To move its Ford, Corvette or Datsun.

A snowfull truck on squeaky chains
Creaks off to dump its ***** crystal load.
And four more trucks parked right behind
Sashay one notch along the road.

Truck number two clanks up beside
The blower which spews salt and snow
Into its built-up box beside.

See, grinding now, a baby plough,
With red-faced driver tucked inside,
Trundles bundles of frozen stars
Into someone's shoveled drive.

While upon this clanking ballet
Lacy snowflakes lazy drift
Lightly swirling fluffy piles
For moving by tomorrow's shift.

You're supposed to get up every day and walk with purpose
Smile and greet others
Push your cheeks up until it hurts
Laugh at the right times and be quiet when you're told
Be kind
Apologize
Make sure everyone knows they're important because you're not sure you are
And as a woman you must be gentle and loving because women never lose their temper, never think ill of somebody else, never let that all important façade drop
You're pretty sick of it
because you feel like you're dying
but no one takes it seriously because you're an overemotional female
So it's probably just hormones (***, you know) and you'll get over it in a few days
Yes, you're fine, you say when asked because you know they don't really want to know
what goes on inside your pretty, smiling head