11/18/10 neighborhood blackout

Sparks flying out of a box on the pole, and people bleary eyed come out into the night, out of their dens of electric jolted awakeness, out of their tiny message addictions, they come out into the night, where frozen chunks of dirty snow line the streets and trees dance a little more stiffly for the cold weather. Where a cup of kindness is just water because you can't boil on the electric stove, and everything is smooth, like the lines people create between one another, because people are not jangled for the moment, in the beautiful blue-black winter before the ominous truck comes to save the night from its own darkness, the neighbors from one anothers' warmth.