It is snowing it is getting dyed in gray through women hair that are waiting for the bus nobody notices them no one they notice…
under the bare tree as stripteasers and those men who betrayed their wives, and those women who betrayed their men are waiting for the bus to take them to their homes
it is cold, children are learning by heart a poem about spring, and I am trying to learn how to love you in winter
the bus is coming with people hanging in a doorway as pieces of broken ice thieves are stealing what is left from autumn loves,