Stoop
if it is really cold wind hints
rain smells of coffee blow in
from a factory the next town over
wind whips skirts up
bottoms freeze either place
steps or landing grow
numb the longer we sit
cotton underthings don't keep
cold from cutting flesh until
bones become part stone
even when we aren't locked
out we sit on cold
slabs going in is giving in giving in
to other things
I prefer cold
(from the chapbook double exposure, Plan B Press)
