A white sheet unwraps—
Braves the sultry summer and lonely fall.
Its clandestine mask of dark and light,
Seeps like infection through your mind,
Covers the numbing sensitivity of soured thoughts
And acquainted experiences down a list.
When the icicles from your rooftop become ornaments:
The racing thoughts in the atmosphere
Cease its five o’clock traffic and begin to trickle
Like the bored sensations in your brain, or like
Conversation with the one you loved, now lost.
Halt and repair the things you broke and hastily thrown away.
The bitter of cold air: your lids warm your agape eyes,
Starstruck from newfound creations and passing sights.
Brings a natural refrain to the unnatural things,
As your blood is thick, and you resort to the neglected running shoes,
A long-forgotten childhood friend. Take an artless walk,
And feel a genuine breeze.
For running against wind
Under fluorescent streetlights
With the one you think you know
Blinds the eye.