nostalgia
The cold air numbs
fingers and toes, turns
them into cocktail ice, to break
off in chunks
and feed to guests.
In this head,
where the lights are dim,
florescence,
waiting for a bulb change.
The toilet problems,
the piss-stained seat,
the logs overwhelming the bowl.
In three months this
will all be nostalgia.
It is already nostalgia.
-KLC, 2/18/01
ready
Email: katlachatte25@hotmail.com