Trolley Car-Ellis Paul

It's a snowy night, the cops shut down the freeway big men in plows are out carving up the streets Below them, jammed on a subway, I'm with two hundred over-dressed strangers brushing snow off coats and shoulders kicking snow off dress shoe feet chorus: You live six miles down this trolley car's trail up above the red line, where the street musicians wail Where Baby, we used to chase down coffee on the sidewalk take in tunes We'd drink in the waning hours till we polished off the moon Who knew the moon would fail above the trolley car trail "Park Street, next station" says a voice with an accent I've heard and I see shoppers on the platform where green and red lines diverge I fight my way through the packages and the bows to a pay phone, the operator knows she says to me, "Your nervousness shows" I say, "'Nervous' is too kind a word" bridge: I think snowfall should be measured By how much it takes a city by surprise By how far back old timers go to remember the last time a blizzard stung their eyes Last time I rode a subway you had summer in your eyes you did Your phone rings, but it only brings your voice on a message machine, "I'm not here, the tape is clear" me, I'm off the hook it seems "I called," I say, "to say 'hello' to coax you out where the snowmen grow but you're not home, and hey, I gotta go, it was good to hear your voice."