“Give me your hand, child, I’ll tuck it in my pocket.
Close your eyes, child, tight against the snow.”
Eyelashes with little milky dew,
Sealing everything together
With frosty iced glue.
It was a snowstorm,
And you remember it because you had
Never seen anything like it before.
Your hand had been given away in a strange pocket
It was too cold to feel it anymore.
And yet, the bitter wind felt like an ally
A wintry helper took your Californian soul.
A
