There was nothing dramatic:
His boot fell apart in the snow
and started making funny flapping sounds.
My shoes had anarchy symbols in the soles
and left strange tracks
next to the paw indentations of a mountain lion.
(Though they might have been from a large dog.)
Yes, everything was technicolor:
Spectacular browns and simple golds.
(Somehow the sky always seems more blue over snow.)
I correctly predicted that somewhere
there had to be a good Chinese food restaurant.
There were also thrift stores with weirdly endearing names,
and an ice cream counter with square scoops.
And when I fell asleep while babbling
about the “wild God of the world,”
I felt him gently take off my glasses
and place them on the nightstand, softly.