Snow like sparks from a
Raging wildfire.

I watch the eighteen wheeler
Unload its cargo,

Shielding my eyes from the
Cotton blizzard.

Glove carries diesel fumes
And the scent of my last cup of

Coffee. Inside it, my hand
Remembers itself full of her hair

And pulling her closer slightly
Too hard, the way she loves it.

Snow like sparks from a
Raging wildfire.

There are a thousand places
I would like to be, right now.

Her bed is one.
This isn't.