poem written before the coming cold

new converse, christmas lights strung up til march, arcade pizza glistening with grease, red hair dye, burnt-off fog, rain, i think, or the dew on grass, dark lip stain, tracks in fresh snow, heavy vanilla, old lemon peel, pink ribbons forgotten o

-- free would,

& all the spiraling connotations that come

in the afterthoughts of it, the explanations,

the tin bucket full of pieces with bark still on

for no one wants something they could've had.