calendar and a janitor a small tajik with a shovel is circling around the yard in the language of khayamateryaly find out about what i’m the only one who knows so far. i know for sure that the ice will melt, in the quiet of midnight, the wolf will sing, and the red-haired girl will sing. the weather forecast is snowfall, the streets are jammed, the cars are like boats with an exhaust pipe, and from the radios, the invincible bone m sings like a god, the surf is forecast, people are in a hurry, slipping, losing their mittens in the mud. water into the bowels of the all-weather metro, and i, with flowers under my coat, hasten to tell you that the bureau’s forecast is singing, i know for sure, the ice will melt, the silence of midnight and the wolf will sing, and spring will come as a red-haired girl, warm from the spring, who has taken over the world. in a tent with the sign tobacco, some street wit put up an advertisement, skis for rent, but the citizens are not happy with the jokes, because their usual drive was so unexpectedly interfered with by snowfall, retired doctors, negatiants weavers,