I am a man of winter

With a brain becoming snow

And hands ice cold

Even when I’m hugged by leather.

 

My thoughts are jumbled like alphabet soup

At those old red and black fifties diners.

 

Nature has a grasp on me;

Its trees reaching out

 

To end me.

 

I am fragile as a ball of snow

Clumped up by kids to make a man

Forced by the wind to crawl into caves unknown to maps.

 

MAN I wish I had a freaking map.

No,

      that would defeat the purpose of this.

        of everything. 

 

***

 

I sat out the mouth of a cave facing a ravine today,

Looking at my callused hands 

And wondering about where I have gone.

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