1 a.m. it's me and the dog and the snow coming down and coming down and kicking so much light back into the sky it could be anytime. Doesn't matter. And doesn't feel late, just the kind of quiet worth staying up for, the world all to myself and covered so fresh it seems like nothing could ever hurt.

The way snow sits on the trees and pulls them down makes them into something new. I almost wake Roxie, pull her from her bed to give her this moment just in case its melted by morning, to give her this moment of me and her in the middle of the night and the confetti sky dropping down, to give her something to hold when we tell her we're taking it all back. i'm taking it all away again. because that's the truth of it. me. this is not consensual. there is no us. least i can do is load the winter with little bits of sparkle when I can. But I keep it for myself.

Just boot soles squenching down on snow, the dog breathing, the flakes coming fast on my hood. Loud enough to be rain, but its not. And I walk. Nowhere to go. This is my time. Even when I don't want it. Back here through the looking glass to turn it all inside out again. What I mean is: fuck this cryptic poetic bullshit, words, snow fallen words to cover the muddy underneath. What I mean is I am gone.

If I could get myself up of this couch and up the stairs and into the bedroom, which is really just the office and my same old futon by the wall, I would put my legs beneath me and start walking. But I'm halfway out and you can hear the bedroom snores right through my office walls. Better to sit here, feet on the cushions and the full moon outside for company.