the contrast: wide awake at 5am, asleep at 6. alarm startles at readiness. i cracked into my boots. hair electrified, everything is silence and white. i am red. i let some cords seep through the cracked window of my car. i shovel snow; five foot deep, packed on by plows. the ache is here and here—pointing. resume track one, beck and i push neustros botas to the floor of el coche. bull riding. into the neighbors clean driveway and hauling down this back street. to the moon, staring wide-eyed like a child through naked trees and pink clouds. then the overflow. i had to drive 'round to the back entrance of the hotel. only to leave the orange pekoe tea bag in the water too long. hair is still on fire, but my boots have finally dried. so much for un poema.