warmest winter

its february, the month of my birth. the coldest, bitterest of all months, i used to remember. last winter i thought the ice might never melt, the snow might never stop falling. how we cooped ourselves up in that apartment and watched silently from the windows as it closed us in deeper and deeper. it did end, of course, in april. and may was wonderful, blazing yellow and aromatic until your birthday, vanessa. this is the warmest winter i can remember. and i've never felt this sad before. never felt so hopeless. cattails and brown and yellow and burgundy bleak. thrashing rabies shoreline. there is no ice this year, great ones. no stillness here. barren branches, a shady patch of snow. mossy fauna strays and wanders. eternal spring. there is no sunshine here. not where i come from. not where i go. the odd pine, rails and rocks and empty riverbeds. the factory smoking stacks. cement is flat the shiny tracks. everything is blurry here. where i come from and where i go. muddled with tears and salt stained windows. everyone has a dirty car. grey and white and cloudy and black. everything is darkness here. where i come from and where i go. it's the warmest winter i can ever remember. i should be happy but instead i'm sad. yeah it's not where i come from but where i go. for now i'm frozen shut waiting at the tracks for this train to take me where i'm supposed to go.