An open path.

Shadows that slant,

and the smell of cold in the air.

Squirrel skitters by,

Sun is brilliant,

off the undamaged snow by the stair.

Girl on the phone,

crushing the salt,

As footsteps bounce curls in her hair.

Perfume is adrift,

with cigarette smoke,

and faces that don't really care.

*Written on the steps of Santa Rosa College, CA*