I Don't Remember

I Don't Remember

snow piles up against the door
gathers on the window panes
blocking my view, I don't remember
it snowing like this when I was a child
I don't remember this blinding whiteness
the well familiar turned otherworldly
I try to dissolve the snow with my mind
straining to recall yesterday
a bed of snow replaces the frozen ground
and my truck sits on the unnamable street
a lonely white hill, the black tires
glistening wet in the gutter