Truth be told—
it might
just have been all of the
murky gray light—
circumscribing each subsequent
frostblurry
sight—down years of westward narrowing
long streetside
edges—
of such
hulking slate
colored knit clothes—of
puffy blue navy
and mustardbrown
downstuff swathed figures
each marching silent
clockwork onward—
solitary—larger
than life;
that—eventually
provided the
least troubled berth—
the the whole sort of now-
mythical
big shoulders idea.
