Snow Covered

I am
A station wagon with fake wood plated to the sides
On a dirt covered back road
Going fifty-five
With the lights off
The interior smells of
Stale cigarette smoke
And whiskey from
A plastic bottle
Melted into the burn marks
On the felt seats

I am
A passenger watching a man swaying
From one side of the road to the other
Sporadic like a tadpole swimming
For the first time
He speaks to me in colors
And every time he opens his mouth
I see grays swirled in black
Like if the sky started to fall
Into a black hole and we
Could all watch it happen without
Falling too
I don’t understand anything he keeps
Trying to convey
But the more time that passes
Without me answering
He gets louder and louder
His driving gets more aggressive
Until a tree stops time

I am
The snow covered ground
Garnished with drops of blood
The smell of silence
And as I breath deep
I cough up the cold
Into my shaking hands, looking
Into the unknown
Where everything is perfect
Because I don’t know it isn’t yet
Or if it ever will be
And all I am
Is nothing
And everything
At the same time
Forever changed
And unchanged