Don't play with it

Musings between 7th ave to Lexington

Frozen noses.

Winter feels like frozen noses on windy day,
When each inhalation
Becomes a conscious decision
As to whether, you really wanna
take that risk
Of that pain
continued.
Your fingers dispute
Just as bitterly
...But their voices get quiet
As their tips numb and soon enough...
You barely hear them at all.

Were it not for knowledge
Of an ambiguous destination
On a fixed location
Lying somewhere before you...
You would give up
And stop wiping the tears
From the cold away,
And just let them run down your cheeks
And just call it frustration,
And a day,
And sit on the pavement
Like a bum
And pity yourself as to why:
Why are you here?
Why are you here in the middle of the city?
On a cold day?
What is your purpose?
What is your calling?
What... has brought you to this point
In this moment
At this particular time
Surrounded by the cold's bitter embrace
Surrounded by the pigeons on the street,
Oblivious to your existence much less your discomfort..
Surrounded by others,
Just like you.

With frozen noses,
Numb fingers,
And a destination uncertain
they are drifting to...

"For those who could ride in an airplane for the first time"
-Anis Mojgandi