living with winter

I walked to West Washington.

I walked northward to get there freezing my ass off.

the light was slate-stone grey like nickel nearing planetary.

the shape of March was sharply etched

sweeping across the sweltering Del Rio under pressed-

steel ceilings, under stained-glass shades.

the thermostat was set to maximum high.

the funky bluegrass band played to the mob of lunatics

dancing like inmates at the asylum. pick an asylum.

from the street, a stranger told the doorman

the stars would not reveal themselves to him.

c.1971