Emptying into the quiet cold 
a man sings the song 
his mother use to sing 
to him during storms. 
Something something about crying. 

He knows the rest
or at least enough 
to keep him 
comfort. He knows 

about the salmon 
fattening under the ice-
plated-river: finally safe 
from hooks and bear claws.

Two lovers stumble out 
and just like a movie 
a blue Honda pulls up. 
They smile at the man 

but don’t try to sing along. 
They know if he spoke 
they wouldn’t understand.