bare feet tentatively out the window to scamper across the would-be balcony (it's illegal) and leave my sugar-filled heart lying in my sno-angel before the mighty breezes blow it right off. one batch of snow and one batch of pancakes with two chicken eggs, fried excessive in butter and nutmeg, holding hands with my brain to wade in bleak house ICAN'TDOTHIS, fuzz-eyed in the library and glass email inbox pressured with pins and needles of retired blood drops. i like winter a whole lot, but somedays i just want to put this winter season's baggage in the alley and wait for the tuesday trash pick up with a lighter in one hand ready to strike. there are NO ALLEYS IN NEW YORK.
out my apartment window is the roof of the indoor parking lot. we are not allowed there. we made sno-angels there.
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