VOCIFEROUS BLIZZARD

The square-shaped gir1 with a five-o'clock waiting lonely song

forced my eyes into hers

Until they were so strong she could laugh.

"I hope your bus comes soon" resounded through the dirty walls

above the dirty protest

of tried and storm-soaked shuttles.

I had three pennies

for a beggar with stronger eyes

than years could justify;

her brown skin, color of the earth

and battered by four seasons

shuttling back and forth over her

was answer enough.

She had no use for her past

Her future was a picture

no weapons could ride

high enough to disfigure

where every train track ends.

She could sing for every life

she cared to scrutinize

well-schooled by the immortal masters of her path:

Arborway

Heath St.

South Boston

Louise Day Hicks,

who knew where she stood,

but the song was so clear and natural,

no obstacle could block

what the color-blind indifference of the air absorbed

and carried and swelled,

five o'clock drowsy drenched,

molested by a blizzard

that dared roar and flash

whitening the five o’clock dirty darkness

--winter and the year

before the day called winter.

The time not so old

as it appeared

where instants turn into

years and years absorbing,

embracing, to every life

with a sneering sadness:

"So, Snow-White

you've had your share.

I toast you with a sip you never could swallow;

a drop would topple your learned leaning post.

White weakling eyes, look into me

My eyes will follow you until they do

and draw out a life in less time

than it takes the train to come."

--All aboard the boring

five o'clock shadows flitted and

next, behind her back,

new passers-by slowly blanketed the space

with more song, more elbows to brush and not touch

--separate ways home.

And once every ten trainloads or five

there chances in a new theme,

eyes not yet met.

out of the earth as the ice

falls out of dirty clouds

and dares roar a flash,

a melody

new words

turned over,

whispered to four walls

somewhere across the black tracks:

If everyone could write her songs . . .