Guerrilla telephone pole advertising
frayed roughly at the bottom to divide
up phone numbers and dates.
Asking pedestrians to stop for a second
and consider what their life could be like
if they only had a landscaping job,
or finally learned how to properly
play the drums.
The cold is a thin gray shroud
over the concrete and glass.
It makes reflections clearer
in mirrors and in memory.
Standing still makes the vessels
in ears fill with blood, and all
the sound is caught
like it was running
towards the warmth.
A giant dream catcher
is erected at the center
of the city’s main square.
An urban art piece for the morale
of frozen labor.
The wind knocks it around
until it ends up on the ground,
and then it stays there because
no one wants to touch it.