Crossing Paths

Crossing Paths

By: James Dubeau

A few flakes of snow

Drifted past

My fogged over glasses

And frozen white breath

Greens turned yellow

Then to red

And I pushed off

Feet struggled to find traction

Upon my peddles

As my bike rolled

Across the empty crosswalk

I looked up

My vision filled

With a large symbol

Headlights

Grill

Which I once knew well

I stumbled

I peddled

I got out of the way

Movement washed cold wind

Across my face

Clearing fog and improving vision

I turned to see

The flaxen haired motorist

Who hadn’t graced my presence

Since the sun was hot

And Cajun music

Wafted through the air

Our eyes did not meet

She had turned to fiddle

With something in the back seat

The light turned green

And she was gone

But the memories of days gone by

Flooded back

And I wondered if I would ever

Grace the tavern again

To put down money

For beers and the gambling of meat

In Black Alley

In Black Alley
By: James Dubeau

In black alley
I stood alone
When year’s first flakes
Began to fall
A hulking form
Encased in shadow
Stood just beyond
And blocked any hope
Of a reprieve
Puffs of fog
Escaped my lips
An ascending spirit
But there was no shiver
From my soul
On this winter’s night

In black alley
Between the bricks
The concrete
And the sky
Parting clouds
Undress the moon
Revealing everything
There were no words
To cut the stillness
The silence
Or the night

BANG
Flesh ripped
BANG
Sinew torn
BANG
Bones shatter
BANG
Brains splatter
BANG
BANG
BANG

Wet snowflakes
Drift lazily
Swirling in a breeze
A body lay
In pooling blood
Entombed
By death’s decree
And that is where
It did stay
Alone and dead
Until winter’s end
In black alley

The Winter That Could Have Been

The Winter That Could Have Been
By: James Dubeau

The poem I’d never write
Would have been about a time
Which was to be
Full of joy and romance

A winter which would have began
With a night watching the lunar eclipse
Or a drive through the festival of lights
As snow fell on a starlit night

Then there was to be days
Full of outdoors fun
Such as
Snow skiing
Ice Skating
And even sledding
On these Wisconsin hills and ponds

Then we would have
Tried to stay warm
Drinking mugs of hot chocolate
While attacking each other
With freezer cold feet
Under the cover
Of warm heavy blankets

Cuddling together
Sharing bodily warmth
Through cold winter nights
All the way to the morning
Waking up to breakfast
Which I love to cook
Of eggs and bacon
And coffee or tea

And then there would have been
The handful of holidays
Trading gifts by the tree
While laughing hysterically
At our tacky sweaters
Or sipping champagne
While the ball would have dropped
Sharing a kiss
From those first fireworks
Until cupid buzzed
About our heads

But those events
Never did happen
In the winter
That could have been
And the poem
About that time
And about that girl
Shall always remain
The poem I’d never write

Why Is There Snow

Why Is There Snow
By: James Dubeau

Why is there snow
On my car
This lovely
April morning
Please
Do not tell me
It is because
Wisconsin
Is where I call home
For there really cannot
Be any other reason
Than because
Mother nature
In all her glory
Sought to destroy
Bring me to my knees
With all the pain
And suffering
These frigid temperatures
Bestow upon me

Driving Twice

Driving Twice
By: James Dubeau

Driving twice
The limit of speed
Through icy corners
And neighborhood streets
No cop will stop me
No cop will see me
For all cops will be
At the fire
Behind me
Watching the smoke curl
Over the streets
Onto the overpass
Blocking everything off
Watching the destruction
All is clear
In every direction
Only black ice
Snow banks
Other drives
And
Possibly
Whiskey
Stand between me
And getting home

The Silence

Is there anything as beautiful
As the absence of sound
Stand in the middle of a field
Watch heavy snow fall
And muffle all sounds of silence
Its deafening bliss
Under the right circumstances
Bringing a tear to my eye
And a smile to my lips