Another Life | Steve Klepetar
And now you’ve slipped into another life,
like the underside of a song, far from the highway
and desert trees. It’s snowing again, and you can
no longer hear the sea whispering its lullabies
to well-combed sand. All the tourists are gone
and the pink hotels; seabirds nothing but a memory
from dreams. Your breath comes thick, a white
smoke rising from lips turning blue with cold,
your gloved hands growing numb. Over the land
darkness settles: in firelight a woman’s shadowy veil.