a stone found in my
sheets
my teeth ground to silver
like the thousand chips of ice
crusting the river last night
like the river made of
white crystals

an Indian man walking
alone down a road of fresh snow
carrying a garbage bag
of returnables in each
hand
does anyone realize
what has happened
here?
displaced walking in
an ice sky

Eating oranges that
never go bad because
their skin is coated
with shellac
looking at the few
flakes fall
I want the train
to carry me to
where my father
was born
to the beginning
I want to go to
Buffalo and see the
Falls and go up
to Toronto
you could work in a hospital
as a housekeeper
you could work in
a soup kitchen
where you should be on
the other side of the ladle
you could go to church
you could pretend it
doesn’t exist
get lost in your
mind you could
have dinner with someone
else’s family