Most of the snow has cleared except
for the ***** piles on street corners.
A black car treads behind me,
it's driver on the phone-
distracted but keeping pace.
I cannot help but focus on the phone,
black all over it's surface except for the screen,
which is so brightly lit
it is as if the sun were in the black car
still behind me-
and still distracted.
My car continues forward under the sun above,
which has long since shifted from yellow to red.

An engorged tide crashes into my side like an eighteen wheeler.
Or, perhaps it's a wave of indifference,
merely crashing down upon me-
pushing me beneath it's apathy.
Though, it could be nothing
and we are all simply drowning.

The sea has calmed.
The swell and crash has died down
to a gentle, rocking ebb and flow.

The driver behind me has left his black car
behind the green sun.
He is still on his black phone,
ushering frantic words and numbers.

Red and blue moons pull me from the water,
away from the moonlit rise and fall
and into a dark, entangling thicket devoid of clarity-
locking me in place.
And, on the body-
my body-
which lays ensnared under Sirens,
is an anxiety so large
it is responsible for the currents of the ocean.