There are many things in the world, and you Are one of them. Many things keep happening and You are one of them, and the happening that Is you keeps falling like snow On the landscape of not-you, hiding hideousness, until The streets and the world of wrath are choked with snow. How many things have become silent? Traffic Is throttled. The mayor Has been, clearly, remiss, and the city Was totally unprepared for such a crisis. Nor Was I- yes, why should this happen to me? I have always been a law-abiding citizen. But you, like snow, like love, keep falling. And it is not certain that the world will not be Covered in a glitter of crystalline whiteness. Silence.