earlier in the night,
blue rain poured over
the pond, and the live
oak from the backseat
said, “Why is someone running?” after
seeing a man in blue
hooded rain
coat, run over the guard rail
into snowy river bank

I see the same man
on the bus, he is an Asian
man, the bus driver rides
by him, until someone says
hey, there’s someone
coming,
few see

red birds and yellow
birds eating cold red
berries from damp
yellow winter
grass, they don’t fly away
as I
walk, saying “spring is coming,
yellow birds, spring is
coming, huh?”
they laugh
as people talk
by reading each other’s lips
from separate cars,
driving away in
separate directions,
a man has been
Killed walking on the road

it is March, static dry air-
frozen river behind
the bus stops-
driver pulls
up to the light and makes
the man run

Front seat passenger
down Gilman Falls Avenue
I hear
a singular phrase
“It’s about survival,”
and have the sensation of someone
running out into the road