we watch the snow, living it amid street lamps
the dawn converts to a tryst.
Between indigo is the promise of a new morning,
with you, dying but still taking a fast drag
from the cig that I place.
You compliment this setting better than nobody,
you all beautifully Hindu-yellow, with a hint of sweat
bringing mist to your skin.
Are you going today, widening with those smoke
curls & the certain passage of weather?
Are you going even with some dream of Coney fizz?
If so, go unawares, tossing your butt beneath
the assurance of my foot.
Go with my shouldering the wings that only you
on this particular morning can give.
Go as this sky, as pink, as peach,
the interiors of our radiant souls
granted grace, taking leave.