It Comes

Bits of snow
barely dissolving sky
barely a thin static
across the buildings
barely air to breathe
barely this, barely these
barely rain freezing
along the city.

Late at night
when you lay down
though you’re covered
in blankets
pillow over your head
the truth still comes
in dreams.

Doors closing,
watching friends
leave their houses
alone on the street
deserted, always
walking

barely backs turned
barely visible
to the streets
barely lit
barely any snow to write
bare history in
with footsteps
barely scrape
the pavement
deserted.