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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.

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