Inhale.

Let the cold sweep through my system,
tracing its way
through veins and arteries,
the chill running down my spine
and staying there.

I embrace the tension
where the air meets skin
and welcome it through my pores.

They say the feet are the most porous
part of the body.
So if I stand here long enough,
bare feet on stone,
will the cold enter my body
and inhabit my veins?

Exhale.

Warm air rushes past,
relieving the tension,
and at once I miss it,
hurrying to
take
one more breath.
Arch my neck,
gazing upward.

Inhale.

The stars have slowly
disappeared, winking out
one
           by
                      one
as we replaced them
with highrise towers and shiny automobiles and city street lights.

All that's left
(exhale)
is the moon,
fat and solitary
in the city night sky.
But even she
will be gone soon too
(inhale)
as we paint ourselves (and her)
with telephone poles and skyscrapers
                                                  into a corner
with no escape.

Exhale.