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Winter
kept me cold. I should have stayed inside in cold. But no. Work.
Inside
my car will be just as cold. Oh, there’s no garage. Please. But first
Get
to the car. The icy crunch under your boot.
The
door to my car is frozen shut. And now it’s frozen open.
Dumb
lights. There’s not even anyone there. And now that it’s finally okay warm, I’m
here.
Get
out. The parking lot is far away because they hate us.
I
keep my hair short so it doesn’t exist.
I
take advice because it’s better than being kicked in the shin.
I
try to take advice.
Stale
internet. Cracked lips. They couldn’t make enough Vaseline.
Dry
mouth. It hurts to talk.
And
home is other microwaved vices,
None
of which can save me. No doubt, I’d burn
If
it wasn’t so fucking cold.
When Spring came, all was forgiven. How could I fly south in Spring?
In Summer, I lied amidst the shade like a Caribbeaner.
Cuz
now it’s warm. I walk outside at night. The warm sidewalk,
I
almost had forgotten. Slowly past the antique shops, space for rent, the little
pub
I’ll
never go in.
There’s
also this old time barber shop, and when I stop to look inside.
A
little golden Cupidon catches me. What the—? Hovering above
The
black hair chair, holding a little mirror, a three foot gilded statuette.
Wait, I’ve only got on a tight white shirt. It
could be the fifties.
It
could be simple. Comb. Just comb. Lucky. Jeans.
It’s
been so long. Okay, now I’m loitering.
It’s
warm, but late, so the street is quiet.
I’ll
just stay out a little longer if it’s okay with you. And anyway,
Home
is just a four letter word. Eros is gesturing, I have two minutes.
In Autumn we raised our knees, supine at the bottom of the stream, like khuli
loaches.
And
when I rose, the movers had all gone, and taken their truck with them.
And
I am still here.
And
I can hear the sound of Winter dead approaching.