C Street fog

fog drifts in from the countryside,

cold white ghost of winter fields

as one by one the houses vanish,

the road and the bare-trees,

fog drifts along the avenue

cars a soft blur, muffled,

the whole city going blind,

everything, even my thoughts

diffuse, receding into nothing

as I lean my head on my hands

before me, as I close my eyes

to the night, as the fog swirls now

inside me and all we cling to is gone.

 

--Miguel deO

Done