In the winter, all our decisions seem to revolve around the cold–what we wear, how we travel, whether we even decide to leave our houses. The cold permeates everything. Even my writing.
Rational Thought
What if the cold somehow
wraps itself
around my eyeballs
and they turn to slush
all the proteins congealing, not quite solid
behind a thin membrane
that would barely pucker–ts–
if you applied gentle pressure,
and I can’t see anymore, not even with my glasses?
Glasses are for people with
room-temperature eyeballs
that bounce back like grapes
under gentle pressure.
People who think too much,
probably,
about the temperature of their eyeballs
and have no trouble
imagining them frozen.
