dust in the heater

steam cloaks the vicious river,
purposely raging as though the flow was in it's nature,
frigid black water,
beats and splits the ice,
ripping through the open dam,
to swallow the dirty city snow,
temperature drops,
and the pulse slows,
under the lights of the bridge,
lovers and dreamers,
holding hands,
beautiful faces kiss beautiful faces,
lovers and dreamers,
offering us a bond,
through our common ideologies,
of love, war and terror,
a community for the rest,
alleviating the anxiety of death,
my ideology is the blues,
and "the blues is just catastrophe lyrically expressed,"

a poet sits at the bar,
unfurling rhymes,
about the frozen land and sea,
half past a waitress's ass,
a thought occurs to me,

life is but a thin sheet of ice,
resting on the ocean of infinity.