Small Town, January

We stroll, in opaque light All hairmass and unrequited dreams Somber revelations, hushhush Nicotine fiends, flush-faced monks. 'raw' and 'fresh' never seemed to be ambigous till their offspring gathered softly upon our downcast lashes. Severed streetlights stroke this lambquiet month, and Terryville's alight with chain-stringed sighs and inked sentences settle at white. And dreamers, too, melt along the curb smalltown charades, the rattled moan of passby cars sullen faces, damp. Bones exhale under filmthin skin, the maps here we'll follow, or derail still watching. And silence broods above our brows, sandfeet squirming, tossing, turning above this tranquil foregound. The world, ajar, and we look to our boots, carefully charting the steps.