It’s cold,
freezing in fact,
and like an idiot,
I am outside.
Jogging.

My toes are gone,
stolen by frost,
my cheeks burn
with the sting of winter,
and my nose threatens
to crawl down into
my scarf.
I shouldn’t be out here,
but I am,
because
my dog
needs
to pee.

Bolt out the door,
ignore
the first ten trees;
sniff cautiously
at pole.
Don’t go.
Runrunrunrunrun
SKIDtoa stop.
F i n a l l y
go.
Whine.
Peer up at owner
with soulful puppy-dog eyes
and whine.
Glance longingly
at the park…
down the block.

I swear,
I should’ve named you Sprinkles.

It’s still
subzero out here.
I can’t feel my face,
I’m convinced
I no longer have fingers,
but the moon looks
nice.

I guess you’re good for my cardio.
Bear suits you,
even if
you’re only
two feet
tall.