Phoebe S. Spinrad

Cracks in the pavement,potholes pebbled with cold mix:ice-hardened tires thump and jar.Grip the wheel tightly;hubcaps litter the street.This is the season of lost pieces.Thread carefully through the debris,the frozen plasticand the scraps of metal.Streets fall apart,paint flakes from the . . . . Continue Reading »

red light: stop and waithuddled at the intersectionthe engine struggles and gaspstoo cold for the heaterhead-bowed pedestrians passhunched into hoods facelessiced breath fogs the windshieldfaces form in the . . . . Continue Reading »