styrofoam

this year they decided
that all the snow would
fall as styrofoam,

a new recycling effort
gone array. the flurries clump
in chunks on the lawn.

i catch some in my mouth
& it tastes bland, like 
stale hot dog buns.
 
i chew/swallow & the foam.
it gets stuck in my teeth,
smiling in a mirror

i pick out the pieces.
as the foam collects over
the streets, people stop

driving their cars,
unable to navigate the new
texture of the world.

as we all known, the styrofoam 
doesn't decompose, it collects,
several feet now &  when

i step outside it comes up 
to my waist. i miss you terribly 
& i had wanted to kiss

you in the snow, like
all couples do the first
winter they know each other.

i had imagined your 
eye-lashes collecting frost
& our cold fingers forming

snowballs. i wish
we had been together when
the snow started, even

the phone calls come in
blurry, like speaking through
a layer of insulation.

only the mail trucks 
& ambulance have adapted
so far, so we send each other

small fragile objects,
packed with snow from our
backyards, i'm sending you

a small ceramic parrot
from my desk & the glass you drink
out of when you stay over.