here, we came
to be afraid, vulnerable together
the snow,
outside
imagined
still cold
beautifully buffalo
with no sense
of things
instead, breathe
to be wholly unlike the snow
speak, reveal
small presents
of speech heat
cold crawls
up mohawk street
cars pass by,
now rain
the windows fog
damp with words,
language
the same air
fills our lungs
particles, of each other
pass in and out,
intimate
Profile: Patrick Riedy