You liked it until you came to the edge. You stood beneath the streetlight and looked up The snow was translucent as it fell opaque on the ground We couldn't see you after you fell You were young and the world was yours You couldn't get Faure out of your head The snow stopped falling, and you slept. Your sno-globe world tipped upside-down The cellos in your mind scattered Like frightened seagulls; screeching and insulted You hit the glass. Hard. The plastic snow swirled into a pile The streetlight glared off the window-pains of your world The glass reflected your life You shattered, and joined the snow. Even broken, you could not escepe. Your hands searched the wall like frantic mimes searching for a door The snow swirled and circled You ran around the edge Until you couldn't anymore Plastic snow doesn't make good snowballs You could not sleep. You were old and the world was small. You took a breath and gasped. You could not breathe You cried for help ...and the glass melted away.
11 February 1997