Helplessness Blues

Hello ice storm.

Hello flickering lights,

Isolation and

A majestic blanket

Of slick cold.

Hello no internet for the better part of the day.

And oh, hello no school tomorrow.

Welcome to the land of cabin fever and babysitting.

Needless to say,

I'm beginning to resent snow days.

Sure, there's the lack of temperamental teachers,

The crowded halls, and homework.

But there is the feeling of being cast off on your own

Iceberg.

Floating in the Arctic Sea.

Alone.

A feeling of pissed off derangement,

Known as cabin fever.

Which, in extreme cases ( like The Shining)

Causes people to go absolutely mad and kill other people.

I am not there yet.

I am only in the "I'm just going to hole myself up and read" mode.

I read 400-some pages today.

I had nothing better to do.

Ice is much worse than snow.

Ice is pretty,

Sure.

It's a phenomenon that I admire

But hate.

Again.

Not much to say.

Have a poem: Postal

Ah

And away I fly,

On the five-cent postage stamp.

My cream-white envelope fluttering in the breeze,

As my soul is encased in

A paper shell.

-

A forever stamp,

My guide

To the faint green hills

Of yonder,

Nearer to the seas.

On ships in bundles,

The envelopes nestle,

And I am one in the cubed stack

Of paper.

Letters and bills

And notes long overdue.

To arrive in the mail.

By sea

Or by sky.

Or by the postman

Tromping down winter streets.

-

Nestled into a licked-up parcel,

I sleep,

Dormant.

Til spring,

When I arrive in your hands,

Warm.

That clutch this envelope

That I am.

Marred only slightly

By so few postal marks,

I have traveled.

Nowhere,

But to you.

-

Nowhere yonder,

And green,

Hills or sea.

I have flown by the sky and the wind

And the birds,

Into your mailbox.

Where I lie in wait.

A letter long overdue letter

From the future.