It's around noon
& snow softens
to white puddles
in the street.

I'm standing
at 7th and Penn
& to the south
is a memory,
just a shape
in the air,
bent by a tree,
a little car,
a piece of lawn.

To the north is
what they now call
Chinatown,
where spelling
"*******" in
Chinese characters
is enough
to qualify.

There's no gloss
on the water.
Winter wets
my feet
in gray laps.
I still have
errands to do.