i'm not cold

you are late to everything and so
you don't get to say anything
when winter is early.

it is not all you've made it out to be, anyway;
all that has changed is that if you want to go outside,
you will have to do it on purpose,
and the view from over here is that
you could use some purpose.
what did you do all summer,
with those aimless privileges, anyway?
i never saw you use them,
except once or twice to smoke a cigarette in peace;
if summer really is your favorite season,
wouldn't you be able to explain why?
let's not get into where were you in autumn.
inside that body of yours, probably,
doing god knows what
for not even he knows why--
who the hell did you think you were fooling
in indian summer,
barely holding on?
what did you think the warmth was doing for you?

dig out your jacket and your father's gloves.
you get an early winter,
but not as a punishment, nor even as a wake up call, not even for shock value--
it's being scored as a second chance.

it's a common misconception, not every snowflake is unique,
but most of them don't last that long, anyway,
in these mid-november flurries.