As we walk out into the night,
suitably filled with Cognac and
cigarettes, I see an array of patterns
in the ice, as If drawn by a deranged
yet at the same time satisfied being.
And then I realise, you know,
perhaps life isn't so bad after all.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 3:31 PM UTC
As we walk out into the night,
suitably filled with Cognac and
cigarettes, I see an array of patterns
in the ice, as If drawn by a deranged
yet at the same time satisfied being.
And then I realise, you know,
perhaps life isn't so bad after all.
Request permission to use this poem