winter rides out,
fluid and strong,
like a Boards of Canada song,
from a dream to a cold room,
to the street,
where old men poke poles at plugged sewer grates,
and crows gather in the trees above,
March melt fills the streets with puddles,
water drains away slowly like suburbanite love,
marriage seems to me,
to be,
the ultimate anomaly,
like living in a crowded city,
but going for days without talking to anybody.
4 comments:
boards of canada is
cool.
it's not just the time of year but it sure ads to it, i remember getting off the night shift friday morning and not speaking to a soul until
switching to the day shift monday morning, living and working in a city of three million. it's being alone even within a marriage/relationship. it's hard
but i also remember that day when you just know that winter is done with us and is moving on defeated, it hadn't defeated us. well, most of us.
this brings back so much in my fifty seventh march. i have had some good "melts", but...
~robert
I've been that old man.
You've captured well the frozen nature of contemporary urban sociability, and the superficiality of its (theoretical?) thaw.
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