Outside just beyond the glass walls
of my second-story bedroom
the clouds of February 2015
bury the city of faces in titanium white shrouds
the cars slosh by in icy treads and the voices
of my brothers as they pass each other on the thin iced sidewalk
with easy greetings suspended
comically in foggy breaths
at the edge of South Oak Cliff barely audible
in the distance three gunshots ring out
then silence in the white.
In a few minutes I will call my lover
snowed in at her mothers
on the other side of town.
She is beautiful and brilliant
sitting in her car for the last hour cussing
the gods of cock blocking and 36-car pile-ups
on narrow suburban bridges.
Eventually her anger subsides enough for her to drive
down the block to get smokes as she
rages against the snow machine.
I sit here in my large black leather chair reading
her tweets on the ultra-thin monitor
taping the black keyboard
atop the reproduction antique desk
still raw from the last two nights of good side dick sex.
Goofy, in make a playlist love happy,
while Marvin Gaye’s ‘What’s Going On’
plays on my old stereo.
I find songs online by Nine Inch Nails,
Cannibal Corpse, and the Dresden Dolls
and it is at this moment that I realize
that for the first time in many years
I can see myself in the future
And everything is
beautiful.