Winter Day

In my mind, everything is dark and bitter like coffee from a gas station,

My eyelids swell from the stress and they are unable to close so they peer into the night (I’m not an owl, I’m human, you see),

But in the morning, when the snow thickens and the slush puddles reach my ankles and the sunlight hits me on the cheek (so sweet, so sweet),

I cannot help but to lift my lip in a peculiar, unnatural way, so that it curves like a semi-spiral, this curve, some call it a “smile”,

I like to leave my footprints in the fallen white snow, because I like to think that I have made some sort of impact on this world (if not a major one, then at least let me be remembered for tampering with mother nature),

I like to look at the children thrilling themselves by rolling down hills on poorly put-together plastic sleds (but they are rosy and happy),

And mother and father stand by the edge, also smiling but alert, checking their child’s safety, the weather, etc.

What a marvelous day, it is a bright day outside indeed, but in my twisted mind (and it is so awfully twisted, like a lemon piece twisted on a salmon fillet) there is barren snow and no children and only the thought of a smile.