Wednesday, November 12, 2014

"Cold, Wet, and Lonely"

It’s like a cloud, this loneliness,
Thick, greasy, dark, enveloping:
A storm front stalled,
Directly over me,
But no thunder or lightning,
No gushes or torrents,
But a drip, drip drizzliness,
Cold as the grave, ice cold,
With a clammy dampness:
Penetrating, wet, icy fingers
That feel like unforgiveness.

Chip Bergeron