Six months later the world still tumbles out of bed anew each morning in its litter of newspaper and beer cans. It still chomps hesitantly on pencaps and fingernails until its let back inside the dog door of another restless night. How could I ever miss a moment of time passed in this manner of anxious unrest. How could I ever forget those cold eyes passed on sidewalks as we collect in our familial old comforts and hide hide hide.
While I no longer have the cold to bite me in the winters, bitterness now has no excuse so close as weather to be so prevelent. You are a black and dirty city, and today you are just as bleak as that orange sun that simply refuses to quit in the deep lonesome sky.
