when_you_feel_this this should be rillian it's fifty degrees farenheit at nine in the evening. the sun that hung with out a coat all day is in another part of the world, welcomed greedily. but now here in this world that lost its light, grey, heavy clouds arrive never invited, bringing cooler temperatures like whiskey when sparkling water with sliced lime is the more appropriate gift. by the time my coughing will be sacrificed for more bad dreams, the green grass, who we had not seen for several days like the friend who just got his kitten, will be gone, leaving just a smile and a nod. for tomorrow the morning will be white with a snow that will melt by noon. i am the dog who walks through the sudden hole made by the one slat in the fence that came off. i stand at the top of the hill looking down at a freedom i wonder is worth the effort. look, here comes the man. he's saying things i can't hear. but he's smiling. "pick me up," my eyes tell him. "put me back inside where i belong, where i don't have to force myself to be happy." 031229 what's it to you? who go blather from