THE ANGRY WORLD: The Loathsome March Winds

The Loathsome March Winds bite like a poisonous spider

Icicle fangs dripping with toxic waste from a deserted factory

Its frozen webs whipsawing cars on the Causeway Bridge

and slicing commuters in half who wait for the delayed LIRR trains

My house is pummelled by angry fists from an invisible witches coven

Mother Nature can be a real bitch when she doesn’t get her beauty sleep

Old Man Winter annoys me like a preening politician or lazy co-worker

Pot holes and exhaust fumes from school buses filled with comatose children

offer me little comfort as radio static transmits another drunken memory

From fried brain to guilt sensors that howl like a blizzard snapping off tree limbs

always running on overload

Windows Updates never slow them down

I pull my Hyundai into the uneven and crumbling parking lot at work

Always alone except for my doppelganger who drinks too fucking much

The only time women are drawn to me or my car

Is when I hold out a fistful of twenties to the streetwalkers under the overpass

The heater, by some Religious Edict from the 14th Century, works well

Offering them temporary solace from the Loathsome March Winds

 

 

 

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