A Z of city blocks away from the other nexus that draws strange carnates
I saw you shoveling
Black on white
Balaclava'd, scarved, hooded
Hidden in plain site
I was following the safety line
Anchored in the yesterdays collected and dropped like seeds
from the mountain to the tower
But you
You interrupted the assumptions and currents
Charged with my safe and unchallenged arrival
At the stale-idea exchange
With a glance that wouldn't register until Otis delivered me through the corporate womb:
The snow arced its delivery and landing
Stretched back to the shovel and naked hands
Misted out, ridiculing space's conventions
Becoming a 70's icon
Flew into a gray cotton morning
Thick gathering over a lonely looking sky
Revealing the miracle
for all willing to listen
with their I's
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