You go out for a walk. Winter’s
white-brushed the rooftops.
Squirrels here and there tremble.
And there’s a scream from an indefinable
source. No dogs about, just leashes carelessly
discarded in the yards. Windows, two-
eyes-closed, with lowered blinds.
And you are searching for the map in
your head thinking: Where am I?
Listening to the repulsive sound of the wind
sucking at the bones of the trees.