the cold brings it out: the flow
of thought. she's south of the
city in a quiet suburb, surrounded
by children who were possibly
brought into the project as glue
to hold falling pieces together.
going into the city isn't easy,
but it's necessary to stay alive --
from a strictly figurative standpoint. 'I could die out under these stars,'
he thought correctly. the snakes
and scorpions creeped underneath
and the mantle shifted, shook so tiny
you couldn't feel it unless you could
feel the pea under the mattress.
he thinks of her and those children,
and what it would take for them to be
together in arms. first, they must be
out at the same time, under the same sky.
too rare, but, one might as well try.
he ignites the car to go out; he gives a sigh.