saturday, january 1

six years on
the same bank sign says 12 degrees
i am tracing my steps, a tired dog
returning to the scene of this or that crime

the coffee tastes the same
there's less smoke in the bars
a few more franchise restaurants and
parking lots where better, seedier
landmarks used to hold down space
but the people are still just
about what they were then

the cold that laps against all these walls
and soaks diluted through the rooms within
is the same cold i remember tugging at the
holes in my jeans that night

turn the wheel carefully, there's ice
all over the road
watch it with the brakes, don't
make too many sudden moves
easy through the turns,
watch the lettered
streetsigns pass
the motions come back
easy enough

that sense of familiarity comes cheap
but i tried to think,
and i couldn't tell you any more
what i was after when i left

and whatever was here
has pretty well forgotten me

easy enough.