The cold makes them shake, the boys squatting at his door
Breath curling up like ghosts in the night
screaming, calling to the heavens for help
Leaves roll past, some swirling in unseen storms
The second boy chuckles and licks his lips
as the first wipes the snot from his nose
Down the street, lovers walked through the lighted trees
Weaving their way back to their apartment
arms and hearts entwined, warm
A shout, a pop, a cry echoing through the dark
The spattering of running on damp sidewalks
diving behind a building, out of sight
Their panting subsides, the boys are silent again
From a trash can a head rises and
a rat looks at them as brothers
Matthew Herring
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