sometime long ago

full moon scented with cloves
salt tinges my cheeks
my tears dotting the white snow
I have nowhere to go
the bare brick wall, red and blood stained,
where I sit, is cold...
the bank clock chimes, I don't count them
and a passerby tells me it's 24 degrees
the music of his voice
is like thin wisps of clouds
or cigarette smoke from Wink's open doors
why do I cry today?



sometime long ago
[2007.9.2...a]