It’s Cold And
The heat’s not working. The heater’s on, but I’m still freezing. The streets are paved with gross and I’m starting to wonder if these shoes really have what it takes to go the distance. The buildings are so high. The roads have so many potholes. The land has technical and creative challenges. The colors are disappearing. The sky is an ugly shade of gray. The leaves have gone all browny. The sky looks apocalyptic but I need to go to the bank to see if I have cash. The low sun makes seeing things much more difficult. The distance is greater than it looks. The locals are more ornery than Yosemite Sam. The Jets suck. The Russians are winning. The kids are drunk. The smell of white privilege is overpowering the smell of urine. The worst is yet to come. The air hurts my face. The tiny muscles in my skin contract and what was hair stands up. The hair on my legs gets so stiff it could cut glass. The testicles go up to stay a certain temperature. The only way to warm up is skin-on-skin contact. The only warm thing I have is my laptop charger.
Source: Google and Twitter search results for phrases appearing after the expression “It’s cold and.”
Jenni B. Baker is the editor-in-chief of The Found Poetry Review. Her poetry appears or is forthcoming in more than three dozen literary journals, including DIAGRAM, Washington Square, BOAAT, Nashville Review and Swarm. Her chapbook, Comings/Goings, will be released by Dancing Girl Press in 2015. In her current project, Erasing Infinite, she creates poetry from David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, one page at a time. More at http://www.jennibbaker.com.