Dark City

You gave me a tour of your city last night,
Snow crunching beneath our feet
as we walked through the woods.
We saw benches full of snow
and the remnants of lovers’ who left their lip prints behind,
taking nothing but icy air inside their lungs
and never knowing if love will find them
or if fear will over-come them
and leave them empty-hearted.
Hand in hand, they go
trying not to slip on the icy creek bed,
trying not to cry as blood spills red, on untouched snow

And we pass by them, we are unsure if they are laughing or crying
but we do nothing as they lay there in the snow
pawing at each other’s clothes;
And as we pass, we are sure they are okay
smiling at each other at the prospect
of what we just saw, but we say nothing.

And then an airplane flying over head
distracts us and you tell me
that the airport is right over that ridge
and you point with your chilled fingers
and complain that your boots are crusted with snow
and we walk toward your building
where I will sit in front of your computer,
and write this down as I
try not to think about
Airplanes
and snow and
bus stops
and tomorrow.