Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Coffee and snow's rain

The car's inside is still when coffee spills
on the floor down the door.

The rain permeates the smell
that is the memory

- the only attachment I've made
with Winter.

And the snow, of course

I love it when the rain comes down
and makes holes in the snow.

It's well-formed,
the way a single drop plops down on your side
window and sprints across the glass to
explode into another drop that's
resting on the tip.

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