There’s this one 
melody that no
matter the place 
or time or
person or thing 
it reminds me 
of someone else 
like a ghost 
it taps and 
when I turn 
no one’s there 
except my ache
is that what 
it’s come to 
a dull gnaw
a taste of 
a tidbit something 
stuck between teeth 
or maybe something 
I’d had once 
too much of 

I see snowmen 
walking between snowflakes 
buried under layers 
of down and 
wool and hats
heavy boots and 
mittens and breathing 
smoke from mouths 
everything slows now 
though the desire 
to get in
outweighs the out
and prints pace 
from car to 
door to car 
like dance steps 
painted onto floors 
of some school 
teaching social manners 

It’s not that 
I don’t care 
but that I
don’t care enough 
for you see
enough is a
me my thing 
and don’t is
a you thing 

Outside the world 
carries on unaware 
or maybe unconcerned 
cars like zippers 
back and forth 
trying to regulate 
time it takes 
but in here
coffee cups steam 
steady moist streaks 
that quickly dissolve 
into mornings aroma 
in a few
warm tumbled clothes 
will be finally 
ready for wear 

If I occupy 
anywhere it’s where 
I occur anyway 
a small spot
maybe a freckle 
or a tear
down someone’s cheek 
or a dog’s 
bark at night 
or the corner 
of some room 
next to dust
bunnies and that
one missing sock