Purged and emptied of my former sense
I huddle shivering, alone and cold
Beneath the awning of a grey, immense
And rusting building - perhaps to be sold
Because shut up - stuck in a snowdrift here.
O, I would pray, could I remember how.
So cold, so cold, and filled with foolish fear
(Less foolish with each passing moment now).
Partially clothed - more fully than I'd like -
Yet unaware of what it is I wear,
I watch the headlights coming down the pike,
The symbols of the wide old world out there
In sodden quiet, icy, cowering;
And yet I find current distress empowering.
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