freeze thaw freeze thaw freeze thaw
the pothole hill to my front door
freeze thaw freeze thaw freeze thaw
my favourite mug microwaved each morn
the wrinkles forming
on my face
the ridges smoothing
in my past
yolk solidifies on the counter top
other things said
and let me ask myself,
why did I give up smoking
all those years ago
if I have to breathe van exhaust anyway?
at least one gave me joy
didn't also try to run me down in the street
didn't force me to wear ear protection just to go outside
the most walkable city in england
smells like death
oh yes and the joy of rolling
the wooden ichor scent and taste
the buzz eye'd high
how i-
no, ah! not now!