this is it
this is it the lit up screen eyes and windows cold on the outside cold on the inside the heat steam tea in my hands warming them up steams my glasses up like the outside the inside of the glass painted with white fingers steamy fingers
greasy fingerprints all over the clear
and it looks like its going to rain even in the cold rain icy rain all over the snow make marks in it with its teeth
this is it hot tea cold fingers me waiting for it
2 Comments:
You still write beautifully.
I have missed you, Martha. How have you been?
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