Come up to me through the winter air;

come to see me through the crazy,

blowing nighttime snow,

over quiet houses on their blocks,

past the stores;

the Burger Kings, McDonalds,

factories and fjords;

come through all this stuff and see me;

come through all of this and tell me

what it’s like to have been through it

and to still be you—

walking over floors,

walking over dew.

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