the snow is coming late this year
our hands intertwine on rare ocassions
through misinterpreted accomplishments and accidents
awkward and innocent, guilty at most.
you smile over cups of cold coffee
that the microwave has forgotten how to heat
whisper that i'm histrionic and laugh to your feet

i love how your vagabond eyes blink twice
and your eyebrows raise and bury deep into your brow
when you forget the words to a song
but this distance puts a damp on dreary eyed dreams
someday, darling, we'll prove this cold world wrong

but my toes never stay warm
and the heater has broken down in competition
against the well known rhythm that
keeps constant year after year
it's the only thing left in this place
that has remained, remained sincere

pick-pockets; homeless and helpless
interchanging beer with a pretentious warmth
that even jealousy would not betray
they're the reason this city has not lost it's meaning
faulty christmas lights dangle nervously,
collapsing in the ivory the winter has brought,
embracing each unwandered street
perhaps if we could see every footstep we've created
we wouldn't feel so incomplete

so we watch cars speed on, past interestate 88,
the cars that have been chasing high hopes
of someday reaching familiarity
we shout encouragement from sidelines,
write messages in the grass
"we hope you find what you're looking for," and
"i'm sure when you get there, you won't be lonely anymore"

but my toes never stay warm
and the heater has broken down in competition
against the well known rhythm that keeps
constant year after year
it's the only thing left in this place
that has remained, remained sincere

the snow is coming late this year
we stay silent and shivering, backs against the underground
you speak to me through clumsy glimpses,
tangles of unspoken thoughts
and i call you a liar, ironic and hypocritical
saying i'm not much of an actor, i believe that's really you
well, you have a slow smile; shy and comforting
you shake the snow from your hair
then open your mouth and stare at the concrete
whisper that (together) we make histriony
and laugh to your feet.

(together we make
history
and irony.)

fin.