Cold at the Pump

Cold at the pump, I rub my hands together,
But, for a moment, there’s nothing there,
And I search for the pockets of my coat,

My breath faces its very death and fades,
And somewhere in the air, I leave it there,
And notice my time is ticking away,

The cold gets in close and I feel the chill,
When I realize I’m getting mugged by it,
And shiver and shudder at the thought of it,
When all I want is to get my ass home!

darkpoetryscarswinter

half asleep ►

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