Taunting like that girl
who's always leading boys on
with insipid glee:
The snow flurries and dusts rooves,
but melts upon the asphalt.
Windchill steals my breath as soon
as I step outside,
and wrawls through the parking lot.
After I discard my trash,
I stare at the crystal moon.
OK, that last one was not really a Tanka