form over content
Imago thinks about the car the snow falling
the snow falling settling on the car
flakes flitting flake fitting
to flake to form
the puzzle of ice a
tight skin of ice forming
a headache of ice a
skull of ice
a puzzle without pieces pieces
he will have to make tap tap tap
the handle of a hand-held brush dusting
off the snow shush shush to uncover ice
tap tap tapping the ice cracking
slivers
and shards shivers but now
the car shrouded stolid stoic the snow
building itself into a shroud thickening
unthinking solidifying snow turning into
ice
ice like a skin tightening on his life
the key in his pocket the key to the car
four days the car has sat shrouded in
snow
nowhere to go nothing to show for
the key in his pocket turn the key
turn the key to open the door
turn the key for the engine to start
his hand on the key in his pocket
to open the door to unlock it to start
the engine to warm it up the engine
to melt the ice to turn the ice into
water
back into water water flowing the car moving
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