solstice

I turn up my collar and walk on as billowy winds race past in gleeful delight. Each step is punctuated by a hollow crunch and my feet grow brittle and numb as wet socks freeze-dry and liquefy throbbing toes. The streets are empty and I feel like the last person on earth - a lone survivor here in a nuclear winter. And I’m fine with it, I really am. I pause mid-stride and blow into my hands and kick the curb. It’s so cold and I’m so alone. I watch my breath and marvel in the tormented wind-dance, twisting and turning, of the never-ending onslaught of snowflakes waltzing down like confetti. Except… I haven’t won any prizes. I’m not the millionth shopper. And I didn’t hit the lotto.

The streets are empty and I feel so horribly alone. I look behind me and notice my tracks have blown over as though I never existed. And perhaps I never did. Perhaps I’m still in bed staring at the ceiling like a dead man counting cracks and cobwebs patiently waiting for Elysium as sloppy junk creeps up my arm, awake but lost in dream. Perhaps I’m passed out somewhere on skid row with a brown paper bag cradled under one arm. Or perhaps it’s summertime and you’re clean - we both are, and you and I are gazing into each others eyes and you’re telling me you can see our unborn children. And perhaps…I’m fine with it, or perhaps I’m not… as I twist and turn and slip deeper down through the widening gyre alone in the company of happy snowflakes.