snow fell.

the winds blew and the snow fell. a white sheet partially covering the midwest, broken only by the roar of engines and bleak buildings stretched out of the horizon. the city was on fire through the storm, a million lights smeared by the falling snow. i saw you there, and then i retraced my steps to replay the conversations. little sleep, little food; a sustenance on coffee and cigarettes. i have arrived back to my northern grave, a place to rest my weary bones until the sun emerges from behind this blizzard and will melt my flesh. the spring will be here before we know it. then the real decisions will be upon us, my lower lip quivers at the very thought. i have traced the lines, but now they are going to be made permanent. my hand shakes with the pen. where must i draw? what shapes are going to be the right figures? it will all happen. slowly.