The air is brand new.
It smells like cold water, and snow,
snow and silence.
I feel the family members creeping up around the corner.
They want to know if I have a boyfriend,
or a job, or a baby.
No.
I have a drinking problem,
a one person apartment,
a long list of things to do.
But I am here.
I smell turkey and cranberries,
and a spilled glass of a sticky beverage.
I see men on the television tackling each other,
and men on the couch yelling at the men on the television.
I hear the murmur of judgmental old bags,
and the wind blows through the empty trees.
I feel the cold bitter air freeze my limbs,
and the dryness of my skin against my jeans.
I taste bitter black coffee and strong golden liquor,
It stings every ***** it hits,
and numbs the rest of me,
inhibition included.
November is here,
to titillate the senses.
empty months that I love so dear