The Windy City
Blinded by strands,
Clinging straw, scratching.
These magnetic hairs,
Sticking to lip-gloss, attacking my eyes
Torn between whether to abide by the weather
Or appealing to Jack - will he care if I'm cold?
Whipped and tripped, slipping and stumbling
My stomach rumbling, Porridge van closed.
My adventure is waiting
The journey a skirmish with perilous wind,
Meadows of ice, deceptive sunlight
So inviting from windows, a kaleidoscope of lies
Like a soldier to battle
With the rest of the cattle
Charging as one
We all fall down.
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