every time i fall under the influence i seem to find the snow sometimes they let me and sometimes they dont but my knees always hit the snow rocks and pebbles pierce sometimes but chilly wind makes it all fine like the ground is forgiving like it knows my name like it’s waiting for me to come back the same they laugh from the porch or they call me back in i don’t feel the sting not really, not then and when morning comes brittle light mirrors through blinds knees bruised purple or crusted in red little souvenirs of where i landed how soft it would be how far i would go every time i fall under i find the snow