It was almost the beginning of another season,
almost time for the love smitten to think of a home,
almost time for the disfigured chrysanthemum to wither,
almost time for the homeless a handful of despair,
when the snow suddenly sailed down,
silencing all the theatrical of this town.
We stood then by Cafe De Monmatre,
I saw his ears turn red in the cold as he lit his cigaret.
He turned to me, his breath was of Cognac.
“I have seen it all “ he declared “in Nepal “
“I have seen the spiraling snow up the Annapurna,
and I tell you, I never felt so insignificantly small.”
I nodded, and kicked a newspaper out to the street,
it was picked up by the wind and floated like a useless soul.
“Now Imagine things mightier than us , things we can’t
comprehend , and answer, are we the snow ?
or the forces that push and pull and twist?”
“listen to the howl ! Listen to the palpitation”
The snowflakes curved down from the perfect heaven,
and melting on his face; He seemed sad.
“In this amphitheater the the world, I… I
have been waiting for the denouement…it never comes.”
“I think I have paid the good price…
I hear the giggles behind the curtain…each day…”
I was silent; the cold air filled my lung.
A sudden gust drove me to him yet he was so absent
in a different space and time where the snow,
yes the snow, had absolute dominion.
“But tonight, it’ll all end.” he mumbled and killed the smoke.
-written 2016 revised 2018