Howie Good

Where I'm From

I came straight from work
to meet them on the corner,
but, of course,
they had already become
fine particles of smoke.
While I waited, I listened to music
for barbed wire and accordion.
The short days of winter,
had sneaked up on us,
the sky like a fogged mirror,
the frozen puddles like pale bruises.
I stood there for what
seemed like a lifetime,
naked by then and shivering
and with my hands raised
in the air, an unqualified witness
to an unspecified event.