"best of" poem of the day 01.29.16

snowballs

i’m addicted to the gloom

the misery of the daily race

i miss so many moments this way

moments like this

throwing snowballs

while we wait for the bus

to take us both to work

hurling ice balls across 77^th street

hitting walls and fences, trees in the distance

laughing like two idiots

our love as crystal as the ice shavings

melting on your black gloves

there are so many things to talk about

the worst kind of trivial business

i want to keep quiet about it all

but i’m addicted to the gloom

i feed on it

i miss too many of these moments

years of joy passing between us

undiscovered by me

for a moment like this

i have to work the silence into an art

just to catch it

i miss moments the way working stiffs

miss busses

please not today

today i know i’m keeping this one

here it is.

                                                                        02.12.10