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Outside it looks like spring in winter

My woman is in my bed sleeping

Blonde hair peeking out from beneath the covers

The blue of the sky tastes like Wisconsin

That place I lived and laughed and got damaged in so long ago

Fifty years later…

Lottery tickets askew on my desk

An empty coffee cup with brown remains like a puddle

A sack of sore bones in a chair

An Oompa Loompa dipshit set to take the keys to the country

Why, people? Why?

You’re shooting yourselves in the feet

No “greatness” will come of this

Makes me sick in the head, heart, and guts

But enough of that

To dwell makes my head swell

Snow is melting outside

Everything is dripping whitewater

I wish I was back in Norway

I felt so much more alive

The people seemed more alive

Precious bookstores everywhere

Good food, energy, passion, beauty

We talk about moving there

A dream

But tethered to the system

Gravity keeps us safe yet insane.

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