far off there is always traffic.
even on a holiday, snow becomes rain.

lo mein from the only place that's open,
a clock among the lights on the dash       


         a stretch of gravel where the school used to be.
    past that,         under the swing sets,       mulch where
algae and fungi meet.       two silent things crawl toward
         each other in the night,

dodge convenient
classification,

merge,

and

remain.


lichen can grow on nearly
            any surface despite
    cold, drought, or toxicity         as long
             as that surface         goes
                                         undisturbed.

then this
is much later: she brushes away water,
           tucks her raincoat          beneath her,
                           and drops into a swing.