First Snow
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It’s snowing
just enough that when the train stops you can see it.
Fat powder flakes
swing soft through the air.
An old man on the train plays salsa music loudly through his speaker.
I sit next to him, and in that moment decide salsa is the only acceptable thing to play out loud at 10 am on public transit.
I melt into the dirty lacquered bench, a little girl pretending to be a witch.
Watching water fold to ice-and back to water.
A man and woman look through an apartment window at the sight of fresh snow.
His bare chest pressed against glass
-morning glory.
I wonder if they woke up in bed together, and who made the coffee?
Who exclaimed:
Look! It’s snowing!
Who tasted excitement first-and then-who followed?

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