narrow slippery road sliding down into the black abyss
(deep, dramatic voice) where you can’t see a thing
soft shoulders like a sleeeeek woman, no guardrails
quiet languid winter days at the cabin
away from all the hysteria
sleet dampening the festivities but not the spirit
later in the day...walking - meandering
just walking and listening to those birds
sharing coffee and talking of the latest gossip
the ones who stuck it out through the cold
and those that didn’t who pack up the moving van
and head south to palm trees and suntan oil
now the survivors hug the trees snow crusted
being one with the cold breeze
I meanwhile wander aimlessly about
and things couldn’t be any better
evening was coming, falling like a sequoia
I crunched my way back home
for a fine friday night fried dinner
some potatoes, chicken
I don’t want my last earthly meal to be a salad
after dinner it was already dark
went out to the porch overlooking the frozen lake
brushed the snow off the red adirondack
set down my thermos of freshly made hot brew
it was the kind of night
when the stars shone bright
anything seemed possible
although deep down I knew better
but I decided to pretend it was still so
