Carols

 Sitting alone this muggy evening on the patio of the street side cafe, just barely on the dry side of breaking a sweat, I note the soft strains of a familiar tune in the air, coming from nowhere in particular. Nowhere and everywhere. I know this song. I cock an ear, listen during the spaces between the passing motorbikes. Winter Wonderland. That's it. Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? In the lane, snow is glistening. The man brings my coffee and an ashtray half-filled with powdered coffee grounds. I light my cigarette. I open my book. I sit gazing dumbly into the lowering of evening, thinking of something. A woman, magic, several hours of life. Everything else seems so plain. Like snow on a TV screen. Like the pages of the book in my lap. Sudden children all dressed in white dash past on the sidewalk. A flurry of children. Here and gone. And I can't help but note that the song has changed. God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay.