the snow's stayed for days.
i wish it wasnt winter.

ideas swell in my craw
& make it hard to swallow.

i walk through cold, negotiating ice.
at least i have the home of my shoes.

it's hard to sit
without being cold or restless.

ice in the park makes it difficult
to get anywhere i want to go.

a couple plays a broken game
of tennis on the thin cleared path.

they are bundled & in sweats.
when on hits the ball

the other can never seem to hit it back.
they are very bad.  
                    it is so cold.

it's just as cold on the sidesteps
of the Jefferson Library
across from Patchin Place.
somewhere i go to think.

the cold is like a cop
who wont let you loiter
and shoos you to your feet.

time to go.  on to the next cup of coffee.
the traffic has no effect on the cold.













why i am
a nomad: