The haze of breath
in frostbitten air
makes machine of
a body with a drunk
at the wheel.
Wisps of air  escape;
engineered to heighten
awareness of self.
Each ones exit increasing the
loneliness
I've always loved hearing;
"Any port in a storm".
Trimmed with an air of ambiguity.
How unambiguous is it though,
when looked at in hindsight.

I chose that port for this storm!