Over black ice
and fresh snow
on a country road,
we drove
that December night
beneath the moon.
Snowflakes flying
more than falling,
we climbed
the graffitied bridge
over the river
and sat in the cold,
overlooking the water.
Hunched together,
we waited
stalled
and cleared our thoughts
in the brisk wind
as we watched for a train
that never came.
Our fleeting footprints
quickly covered
by the elements,
we drove carelessly and
carefully home
with hardly a trace
that we had ever left.