Grace General

Cruel snow, cracked lips, sun lost by four Cold winces through the cardboard window Where the cobblestone smashed into glass And the bare bulb of moon swings over Portage Avenue And lights the icy ruts sprinkled with sand Down the dim hall of chain stores to Grace Where the parking lot is full again I don't bother locking up The face before the doors slide apart Is hers the day they took away the candy Left gift-shop tulips to frame her alarm What will I do now? What will I do now? What will I do now? What will I do now?