Sleet Prances, Minutes Waltz. Snow Marches On

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Vroooom! Time is speed, not grace.

It walks,
it runs--

plummets
from Wall Street windows and sings and dances
and/or... makes/ the snow to fall.

Sometimes a little Proust, or
a slow speed chase or, mebbe
some lackadaisical strobes/ is all/ you/ need.

Sure. I tilt my head/ & stars begin to drift.
Sure, sleet marches on. Sure.
Zoum, zoum, zoum.

--mge