The Crow Fly's
The crow fly’s south,
and the falling snow
hits the face
of the children;
and slowly,
melts
away.
It looks like tears
as it drips down their tiny faces.
The streets
are white,
pure,
majestic,
until the dog takes a shit on it.
The kids laugh
and throw snowballs.
It’s all fun and games,
until little Timmy gets hit in the ear
with a ball that’s more ice
than snow.
He sounds like a whale,
as he cries out for his mom.
The kids circle around him.
Some laugh
and some
are concerned.
Little John helps him up.
He has a limp,
even though,
it was his ear that was hit.
The snowman smoked a joint
and watched the kids.
He shuffles over
and tells them,
that ice balls are not cool.
They laugh at him.
He cries,
and his tears
melt his face.
The dog pisses
on the snowman.
Smoke
floats upwards,
from his pipe,
as more tears
melt his face
The song of winter
fills the ears
of the blank faces.
The song of cold
and suffering,
maked in the melody
of a Christmas carol.
The adults sip their drinks
and watch the children
from the warmth of their house.
Their shadows are in the window.
They laugh at the kids.
They laugh at the snowman.
They cheer on the dog.
The snow melts
and the street creeks
full of trash
flow down the road.
The crow fly’s north.
The sun creeps out from it’s hiding.
A clock keeps ticking,
always,
relentlessly,
ticking
We sip our drinks
and smoke our weed
to try to forget
about the ticking clock,
that’s always reminding us,
another winter,
full of suffering,
is a few ticks away.
-C.H.