it is a surging, swirling, drowning tornado
of dust and dismal debris, where every flake
hits like shrapnel to the heart, thus
causing the other parts of your life
to be affected with machine gun trauma,
that which doesn't seem to leave, even
in sleepy dreams where cute cold feet
are the only thing that keeps you from shaking awake.
today is a day that is grey
for many reasons, but all those reasons
have a reason and the reason is happiness, or
the lack thereof, wherein we dance from
muscle memory, not out of creativity or rhythm,
just a semblance of going through the motions,
doing the steps that take us places but nowhere.
this oppressive emotion comes from a witch's cauldron
of many things, a recipe of work and love and paying rent,
being sick or poor, breaking a dish, getting lost, getting found out,
or even inopportune redlights on a Wednesday, because
this is where blues beget blues, just in time for you to discover
that Murphy's Law may be real, if only for you,
and I am easily bruised, but living is better by finding
the things that break up these doldrums like gardens and garages.