The Power is out Again

The laptop sits overheating, warming my thighs,
right leg tingling as it can't decide whether it wants to be awake. I don't.
Letting my head fall I give the trees a lopsided smile. The snow keeps falling.
The numbness in my mouth reminds me of the hail
that is icing its way into a shut down. The roads turning into kitchen counters
with vanilla milkshakes carelessly spilt over them, eventually frosty too,
dropped on the streets by the hurried passer by with frozen fingers.
It hurts the eyes to watch the snow to long.
Just like the white fuzz of the screen, with its whirring fan working hard
to keep it running through the night. It plays in sync with the dryer
and the air vent which never seems to blow more than a luke-warm air.

The window pain it's even cold.
Where Jack Frost used to wander, now sway only branches down the cul-de-sac.
My lower lip feels strange. The taste of food mixed with the sensation of
bitten skin tantalizing. The faint sent of unfamiliar, unwashed home
lingers on my shoulder, almost hidden under my cover.
The cover that keeps me company when I drive out into the night,
folded beside a bag with tomorrows lunch and a warm pair of cloths.

The film I'm watching plays on.
The places. The eyes. The faces are like strangers I have met a hundred times.
Isn't it strange that this reality that can't be found
in the pages of all my books. It's lost in the reply of every message.
It will always play onward without a care of who is watching,
like thoughtfully underlined pages open on the dinning room table,
over shadowed by yesterday's mail and empty plates holding pencil's as forks.
And like the vibrating of a forgotten question, lying somewhere under keys,
cash, a fresh stack of laundry, it won't be noticed.
Only the change in position of one foot to another, one more
trek through the abrupt climate to the pantry for snacks, one more
strike through a list of things to do is. The laptop is getting too hot.
I hope it will last me through this winter storm.

"Ashecliffe Hospital Cemetery: Remember us, for we to have lived loved and laughed."-Shutter Island