I tried to get there...

I tried to get there and I couldn’t
find the things that could happen,
the Things that are
Happening.
You can fit in a car.
Santa’s in lot B and its cold out.
The grass between the landing strips was almost as grey
As the landing strips—
Or the sound of pianos in the upstairs hall, My old man
on the phone in his office,
The world in compartments,
the color of sand.