Snow falls for the first time this year
The cyclic rhythm, haphazard flurries on a windless night
I look out over the parking lot
My dark room behind me
A dark world ahead
A hundred ivory beetles
Descended from the ebony sky
All but one rest, one giving off a firefly’s staccato
Some music is playing
In a room eons ago
It’s so soft outside
Muffle me with your frozen embrace
The remnants of journeys cross the otherwise perfect concrete
Bare feet running running running
If you stomp down hard enough
Do you think your soul will be crushed
Freeze-dried and shipped across America?
I want this so badly to be a perfect image
But the cell phone tower
The highway
The golden arches
Things can be ignored
If you tell yourself they can be