Supposed to Snow Tonight

The street wants the snow
So bad, now that it's midnight
And freezing fucking cold
And the guy on TV keeps saying
"70% chance of precipitation
Overnight!" So we wait
Forever, it feels like
For the first pinprick
To drift past the streetlight
Searching in slow motion
For the asphalt. You, me,
The street, the window,
The neighbor's Hyundai,
The open trash barrels,
A stoop and a stray cat,
No sound but a siren
From a few streets over.
No hurry, dark Eastern clouds,
We're all just waiting here
To feel the brush of your cold wet lips
When you whisper "Brooklyn" in our ear.