"She gets me
to that spot where I don't know
if I'm on the verge of being
horny or if I really
need to pee."
A flake of snow lands
on the tip of my nose
in the porch light still warming
up to it's full output
and the buzzing
and condensation freezing
in the muff beneath my mouth
is not what I want to hear
but, you're not much for conversation tonight
and I'm feeling uninspired
poking at the dead and floating embers
still rising from the crater of
so violent
a thing as the melt down
that detached you from our world.
"I'm just saying
I can understand
what you saw there."
A flake of snow lands
on the tip of my nose
in the porch light still warming,
but hours from illuminating,
and buzzing
conversations inside the front door
are asking you when
will you snuff out
the last shreds of that blaze
that took more lives than you had to spare and
get used to the warmth of good company.
