Freezer Burn

The air is turning sharp and thin,

a season I didn't want to begin.

The truck came crawling past the park,

a ghost of summer in the dark.

It hit the pothole on Fourth and Main

and the song began to twist with pain.

A cartoon face with a gumball eye

watched the frozen slush go by.

Nobody ran to the curb this time

to trade their nickels for the chime.

I watched from the window, breathing a cloud,

as the music died, lonely and loud.