hot_and_cold raze winter won't take its leave. today it could have snowed. yesterday it did. just a little. there were none of the mothballs that pelted me the day before. it was more like flakes of dandruff sloughing off of god's grey scalp. tomorrow it'll be seventy-seven degrees by the time i'm eating dinner. maybe warmer. if the wind is a woman, the sun must be the unblinking third eye of man, crusted over with fuel for the flame that kept it fed when it was fast asleep in the world's unbroken bag of waters. 230419 what's it to you? who go blather from