Ice [poetry]

Night in the city has a strange sound
The way roof ice speaks before it melts
Pools down
Rushes gutters
Raises the river’s rage below me

Melted ice flows over my boot tops
Down interwoven streets with city signs that claim they take us to
Everywhere that is nowhere to you at night
When you choose to sit and go nowhere
Except to lean closer to the flickering light that distracts your notions

Your diversion’s surround-sound voices tell you how to think
They muffle the important sounds outside your curtained windows
Of me
Of us
Of melted ice
Slipping down interwoven roads to nowhere but the future and our plight

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