107.

Truth be told, i'm scared. about so many things, they creep up on me in moments of classical music, pattering legs on bare skin while beauty rushes around my head in waves. I'm scared of so many things: It's hard to place exactly, but in this midst I see my future, I see my past, I see that everything around me is changing while I stay the same. I see that I have different friends, different habits, that i'm in a different place, that i have a fabulous, but different life now. The same person in a different life sounds ironic and funny at the same time. Doesn't make sense, much like the situation I'm in right now.

I try to articulate how i'm feeling, and I've learned that I'm pretty good at articulating my feelings but this tongue is thick, and these fingers are weary and all i'm coming up with is this:

Snow whistles around me,

a blind fit of flakes:

swirling, blinding, building, cascading

spinning and whirling,

which direction is straight?

which is foreword, which is home?

I don't know the path or the road, so i laugh.

Blanketed in a beautiful new face,

lost and found in this new place.

I know where I stand,

clad in mittens and scarf and coat

notes from a piano lift from the snow on which I dote.

I remember, laughing

it leads me, behind and through

until my fingers are raw,

and i've lost my senses, i've lost it all.

I remember them wrapped around mugs of past days

where friends were wrapped in gray and they were laughing,

sounds tumbling like the white flakes of snow

landing in my mouth, open, laughing.