justwrite 23 february

wait in the corner for the warming trend to end because when it's cold the told-off socks are forgiven and we're living in a new age of staged helplessness the blankets overwhelming our reason and the season changes only to expose the glowing white arms swarming to keep out the light and the brightness is alarming like four fires and no waiting and i'm dating myself here but i remember when there was snow and there was some blowing about and not up just around and the mailboxes couldn't talk to each other they were too tied up and fried dried frosty when the ice was too nice to show but the growth of windwild wales on the lawn was something to remark upon from the window from the glassdoors out the back keeping track of the height where it might reach your lap if you stood up and it disappeared for this is what laps do and the snow traps you inside your snowsuit wondering what you're going to do about that igloo and what the odds of getting trapped in such a contraption might be and whether skiing is such a good theory or if rolling is where it's at and where it's going and the golden white sun laughs as you lose track of the sounds and everything is deadened and aliver and other madeup words for this state between fates the late-breaking cocoa waiting its turn for the the cereal to caloriecarry up the first few hours and the sour ache to designate the next filling like grilling cheese and a wideangle window seat scanning plans for the afternoon and the easyswoon into a nap instead