Winter and Baltimore

In the winter the water whispers, 
trickles its cold fingers 
down my spine. 

But snow is shy tonight, 
won’t be seen crying, 
snowflakes slipping out of its white eyes. 

And it’s disorienting, 
when you drive down York Street, 
seeing the redlining that ruined the ruins of a city.  

Burning daylight, 
we fight our way through the melee, 
and race time across the highway, 
while towers blink back behind us.