in the snow.
he's holding a shovel
and staring
into my window.
who is he?
what does he want?
have i parked in his space,
does he need help.
is he a friend, or soon to be foe?
i wave to him.
he waves back.
he may
be crying.
there are frozen tracks
of tears
on his cheeks.
should i bring him coffee,
talk to him,
invite him into the house
to get warm.
perhaps, but
i suspect it's about a woman
we both used to
know,
i can't be certain.
i may never know.
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