I fell asleep in the car, parked in The Fort, a weak winter morning.
There was snow in the night, and even this ugly neighborhood is shining.
My head still cold from the glass, I watch the sunrise.
I think of some long ago thing, some sacred place, and I put it away.
Winter is here, and there is no place to run to, as the world ends again.
I put away trinkets and snapshots of love that was only a high, a drug.
A young woman walks carefully down the sidewalk, in a bright red parka.
Long chestnut hair hangs loosely. She looks up, sees me and smiles, looks down.
We have stolen everything from her. Her children will be lords of only bones.