i’ll sing a song, if you hold my hand.
and the simple racecar spins
in the silence of a light snow.
low and empty, helium seizures.

hands ache with the turn,
special villains unveiling their diabolical,
a handbag unbuttoned, a slip of cash,
a pint of whiskey, chatter past.
too many stones left unturned,
the fall trees slowly burn.

The wind is howling. It beats my pants legs as it falls over, around me.
The sky turns grey without hope for another sunny day,
the winter works it’s northern magic,
I dial for an outside line, and there rests nothing but dead leaves.
We are mighty!
We who have discovered four walls and fire.
Let not a man discover, that we walked with fear.

.. i am ready..
could we get any more tired?
i sure could use a coke.
or a piece of pecan pie.
let’s settle east of the long river.
where hair falls below shoulders,
and science and faith are absent.
it’s not snow anymore.
too fuzzy, too burnt.
oxygen.