winter wine

Winter seems particularly long this year. Snow peeks out from shadow areas and stands as dilapidated mound sentinels at corners and parking lots. The breeze blow chills around ungloved hands. My brain is frozen, a forgotten gallon of Ben and Jerry’s ice-cream in the back of the freezer. Looking at it, one wonders, if it’s still viable at all. How long has it been back there? It doesn’t look right. Do you remember buying it, I certainly don’t. But then again I wouldn’t, remember that is. Color has gone right out of me. Everything in dull hues. And I kinda remember that it is March, but it doesn’t feel that way. February, it still feels like February. Yet they tell me April is around the corner. Here my fingers ache, as I pound on the keys. Just another honkey tonk piano player in some smoke infested saloon, whining out his existence. I really have nothing to say, inarticulate beyond….um..? Yet I still come stumbling back here.