Too cold to stand outside, but I am
back of Jasper again, I need the air,
and now I recall how strong
those streetlights, last time, shone,
how I needed to leave the town,
and how cold it became,
under late-night semi’s
sweeping rays, air-brakes wail.
Now I will always have those nights, alone;
after Fargo, building snow upon the glass,
a new jacket, blankets
tightly pulled, and failing
to seal heat, till three AM,
when I turn the engine over
and over another rise.
I will always be pulling
away from town, with a wind
approaching from behind.
I will always be leaving to find
the bitterest breeze and hints
of snow at the back of my mind.