“ It’s a dry cold” He says

Whatever that means

All they do here smoke and drink and talk about the weather

As if on cue he offers me a cigarette

I shake my head

I’d rather have the lighter

It feels like a year of darkness

And perhaps a decade of cold

I shiver , I’m too sensitive to it all

 I’ve seen the best and the worst of this land

Seen it all through their bone carved glasses

The snow glitters like fields of diamonds but no one finds it precious

This land won’t bare fruit

But I’ve tasted the sweetness of Indian candy

He looks at me intently and I know something is coming

But all he says is “Good Luck”

And it is enough

Winter is coming hard

Trapping us all in doors

We are all sardines in steel cans

And I stand in front of them all and talk about a life they’ll never know

All they know is the heater will overwork itself once more

And no one will have the money to fix it once more

And it will be just the way things are around here

The End

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