Old Town
Menco and pan flute
dance the tango
in the background
as the chipped white
minivan slides up
to partner curbside.
“Last stop!” Bellows
the conductor as
Lady snowflake steps
out of her steel chariot.
She slips,
her silhouette,
against the fire
of summer sunset,
whirling groundward
like a ballerina
to the final pose-
only no encore,
no crowd of giddy
onlookers to bless
the beauty for her
body and her youth.
No, only the birds
and the tourists
to witness this display
of humanity
in the glory
of it’s winter.
“Please let me
help you up,” I utter.
“No.
Thank you sweety”
Says Snowflake,
Ascending ,
with the strength
of porcelain wrists
scraped and eaten
by the gravel,
her silhouette,
against the fire
of summer sunset,
like the phoenix,
rising once more
from the ashes.
