Two wide open arms
phrygian, pumping with generous excitement
preparing food or pouring water
I am a stray licking at puddles
blowing past the frigid opening hours of
anabolic windows
drafting out the nutty smoke of tobacco
bleeding out into the air
I say that I like, enjoy being cold
I prefer it
and San Fransisco is far,
but I’d love to go
me and my wet, refrigerated soul.