We like to stay outside these days
Legs crossed,
Knees dipping through the plastic bands
Of a broken pool chair.
Our backs rest against red brick,
And we think about the ghosts
That keep us on the outside
of these walls
So uniform and still behind us.
We don’t talk.
But we sit side by crooked side
And the broken sunlight
Dips through our toes
The thing we do is watch
The snow.
Even after it’s not falling
And it just lies there
Like something dead
We watch,
But we don’t talk.
There is something beautiful about it,
The chaotic individuality
of each broken flake
So uniform and still when they land.
We watch them dip
and melt together in a frozen sheet,
side by crooked side.
And we wonder
About the world behind our backs,
Brick and crooked and watching.
And whether light could still shine
Through our fingers
If we were to go back there.
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