whatever
it might mean
or
doesn't
cold
returns
a
couple days of snow
nothing
concluded
and
nothing is the same
closed
down the spot
ten
years back
sit
for hours
philosophizing
remembering
a night in April
a
foot or more
snow
car stuck
had
to walk home
and
whatever
it
might have meant
or
not
nothing
concluded
felt
like something then
five
lines down
and
over
write
to the left
as
usual
and
the bag is empty
again
backwards
spoken
slow
everyone
will understand
nothing
concluded
like
the end of a book
just
beginning
to
see the depth
from
this spot
high
above
thoughts
so deep
most
want to walk away
or
ignore
nothing
concluded
left
hand twistin
right
hand is the write hand...
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