Take Your Needles When You Go
††††††††† Tonight we walk past streets lined with frozen trees, sidewalk-gray men in cardboard suits. I show you my world of crevices and curving streets. Winter wears long hands, even the pigeons are cold. Fresh snow decorates the hydrants, zircon lights beneath a womanís moon. I think of kissing you, but you see that in my eyes. You shake your head, no. I dust the flakes from your scarf, touch your face before you turn away. ďToo late?Ē I say. You nod. Maybe when my world dies altogether. Maybe then.
††††††††† I know your breasts hiding in the thick wool, the length of your thigh, the smell of us, white wine and