I want to know everything about the snow tonight, how it empties into rain and gives birth to my
truancies. How it can panic and bloom into the disco ball of the yard light. How it has a slow
appetite like a clogged drain. A dead leaf rattles down the street, the wind’s urgency driving it, a
sort of piracy.

In the future, it is already snowing. On the weather map, we don’t know which colored line the
next storm will follow. I was eating chicken with garlic sauce and bit into the fork. Some kids
made snowballs with rocks at the core. It’s like not clearing your fingers from the closing door. It
leaves its tooth marks. It is ravenous.