Cincinnati '96 - some sort of prosetic poem of mine

7 hill Cincinnati
living on Ravine
snow sliding
on the corner
a market
and this house
above it
silence
but music
cars accelerate
up the hill the city, I close the door and live big
in this apartment - compartment - my mine me to me.
"My world in the city"

on ravine
corner
a market
above it
this apartment
my world.
silence but music and acceleration up the hill.

Big nights to me are snow filled, and it [ the snow]
sticks to our street, a hill. It sticks and cars slide in
to parked cars. The cop parks and stepping out slips.
His car slides. "Hey buddy you stupid?
You wanna kill yourself?" he screams, pounding hoods.
it echoes snow flake to snowflake. I watch down below.
Cars slide. Black guy yells at the
yellow guy slipping up the hill yelling at the cop.

The radiator fills half the space
in front of the 3 windows I
open the middle window a crack and cold, cold air
dumps into the room.
I want to hear the traffic. I want to hear the snow fall
and how it talks to the
soles of shoes when they step on it. It talks to me, too.
The radiator is hot on my legs. The air is cold on my legs.
Its 9 pm and Cincinnati
is not ready for snow tonight.
Cars slide down the hill.
Parked cars parked on fresh snow slide down the hill.
I love this hill. No mercy hill.
the cop parks, gets out, slips on his backside.
His car slides toward him.
he gets up wiping snow off his clothes.
It's blue tonight.
The market sign reflects off the flakes more blue.
Cars slide into parked cars.

Hearing the traffic, hearing the snowfall.
It talks to shoe soles; it talks to me.
Hot radiator on my legs, cold cold air on my legs.
9 pm Cincinnati tonight is not ready for snow.
Slide down the hill mr. car.