Silhouette

My pace is brisk and focused but not because of the cold, certainly not the case.
I've had this old coat since I can remember and yet it retains heat like it had during those long cold Wisconsin winters of my adolescence.
Sown together as big as a house, even when three hundred pounds it had room for another.
A hundred and fifty pounds lighter now I could probably rent it out to a nice couple, future doctors maybe...
My cigarettes are gone.  I've been trying to quit and this nagging cough stings as my lungs tell me how they're doing for once.
My thoughts begin to wonder as I walk down familiar paths.  Sidewalks I've been up and down countless times, growing up in this neighborhood.
Nothing has changed except for the people and I believe even then that's stretching it.  
This place and its people are made from concrete.
Colours are swapped.
Rain, ice, and snow create cracks in the streets and foundations.
Stagnation is the meal of the people.
I'd rather find myself not wondering in the middle of the street at this hour, following each impulse and the call to adventure.
I remember the people who used to live here, the faces and laughs that I now call absent but where once so sweet.
He pulls up slowly beside me, his tires refuse to let to snow make a peep.
His beam of light saturates me with a silhouette against the houses.
He drives away and I smile.  Some things don't change.