A Poem. About Snow.

A million things have to happen today
I can only accomplish five, and I feel like
if I get to do anything that I like, it’s a good
day. Everyone is in a hurry, because their
million things are also important to them.
Clear the roads, they say, so we can do
ten thousand more things. The driveway
needs clearing, the test is postponed.
Doesn’t matter to me, though; I can look at a
million little pricks of white, and say that I’m
relaxed, and the million things can wait. Don’t
they get it? With a sky this thick, you can meet
the sun face to face. It can’t hide its mighty glare
anymore. Fuck, I’m at Best Buy now. Three-
hundred thousand things were done today.


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