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New York Snow

The snow takes the city back a hundred years.
People walk on a quiet avenue devoid of traffic.
In a gray canyon, twilight dim before the lights come on,
stretching mysteriously to who-knows-where.

I take a bus uptown, toward Grand Central and the subway.
The pace suits my mood, and I stay on the bus,
spurning the subway to sustain the dream.
For tomorrow it will be New York snow; dirty and cold.