it's snowing in Montreal right now,
and yet here I am
spinning a web
of forget-me-nots.
by the time you read this,
I will be dead again,
coffee in hand.
we are all waiting
on the edge of cliffs
created by our own self-doubt
and fear, forgiven.
I come to
on the connecting route
to somewhere special,
somewhere else.
crawl into a broken window,
because this winter
is the best somewhere.