The people of the North
who can hold up the sky
and walk like smoke,
have many words for snow.
You and I can tell
the tales, and I for one
have a jumbled sack
of names for loneliness
you tell me yours
and I show you mine
we trudge heavy
not looking back
until we do
and walk in circles
"It's all right", you say
"It's not that bad,
we're
walking this bitch
together."
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