Did you hear the news? someone asks,
and someone else nods
while pressing his hands deep inside
his pockets like two mice
burrowing against the cold.
It hangs in the air
like the music in a violin string
waiting to be released.
I found out just now, couldn’t believe it.
The other man fiddles
with the lint between his fingers
and stares into the distance
while frost collects
on the empty staves of musical notation
which describe the silence
that follows a passing train.