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
