I have lost track of my thoughts;
my mind drifts -
here, there, everywhere -
as I potter around in my grief stricken city
I ignore the usual blares, the city cacophony, garish fallouts and the skinny dogs
The sun is about to set -
It'll most certainly come up tomorrow and angrily scream
"Rise and work your asses off Fuckers!"
The freezing draft is a constant, whispering reminder
But do I care?
I am in fact looking for something
I am looking for my lilac in December