The lights go up
The southern plates drive south
With a fresh mindset
A fresh habit
They leave with their poison of choice
Their previously sunny summer minds in tow

The chill
He settles down on your face, your skull
And he wonders why you shake to get through the cold

The man to your left asks why a woman like you would show up alone
“In this frigid climate, and at your age, can you walk home alone?”
You respond, “I like to rapture the show
To creep through the crowd
And take something with me on my way home”

Whether it be a trinket, a bottle, a bag, a warm body
You find what the moonlit night requires
You find what you currently need as an idol
You find it all on these merciless streets
By the dawn of the next night you know what to discard
And what life wants you to keep