Winter plays with the light, but I don't mind
because the road still leads me home
Nor, do I depend on broken street lamps
To guide me to the right door … Do you?
On the other side of the road, there's a bridge
where street lamps cast mixed shadows
Shadows dancing on the water like a ghost
But don't depend on dancing ghost … I don't!
Across the bay, a train winds its way to somewhere
Its cars all hooked together like a clunky bracelet
But here I sit writing at an angle on the bay bridge
Can you read this at an angle …? Well, can you?