18.01.03 - 5:59 p.m.

you grew up with laahng As and flushed cheeks in
winter, blood rushing to the surface, making you
prettier. snowy seasons i saw out of windows
twice this week while looking for you under
deep-sloping rooves and plaid scarves, doubled,
ends pulled through. the city becomes the person,
vice versa, until the
babies crying, the moustached men eating hotdogs, the
police and taxicab drivers breathing clouds and
the old women, plastic-haired afraid of snow
turn it into any other cold foreign place.