It snows

so warm …

rolling stones,

hot rocks: side one

this heart of stone

my girl came home

with a green suitcase

travel record player

we set it up in the pink room

next to the desk where I write

and she dug around

came back with pinot noir

her eyes were like little fires

I leaned back in the chair

that I found in the garbage

cracked all my knuckles

except for the broken one

and said, “we’ll still be here

when the sun comes up,

so, take a seat”

“don’t get comfortable,”

she cooed, ”though life is long.”

“It’s a trick.”

“yup, it is.”

the red chair wrapped her up

the radiator sang out

I popped open the wine

with a Nike shoelace

a trick I learned on the internet

she pulled out her paints

one by one by one by one

then revealed a canvas

hidden behind the bookcase

“think I’ll paint over this one”

“don’t do that”

“then buy it from me.”

“I’m broke.”

“I’ll take a million bucks”

she filled my coffee cup with wine

or blood or crushed cherries

or something

I worked a rewrite over

hunting typos as she sang

let’s spend the night together

neighbor knocking on the door

my foot stomping on the floor

“ignore the world, baby

thursday nights are for you and me”

“I know that,” she said,

pushing her long hair out of her eyes

right as Ruby Tuesday came on

we noticed

that age old thing

all our teeth purple

paint all over the records

my fingers hurting from bad typing

she opened up the window

and we climbed out

onto the shaky fire escape

and watched the snow falling

onto New York City