The stains on the subway door windows are
Illuminated by a passing light,
They look like icicles
But outside it smells like spring.
Somewhere inside you all four seasons live:
The memories of every good and bad and in between Thing that’s ever happened to anyone,
Stardust floating in your gut and
Under your fingernails,
Every speck concentrated
In this one moment
Bouncing around a metal bullet
Right under the surface of our skin.