Bad Weather

I climb my way up the powder mountain
A zenith of being
Swallowed down in the hut
By the Pitch and Putt
Which is closed
Bad weather
I stand in the puddle
Next to the spent condom and soiled paper
The rain pours
Like a metronome
whattodowhattodo
Tick Toc time passes by
Passes me by
I hold onto its coat tails
Like chasing rabbit’s soft and dusty tail
Knowing no hole is big enough to fall down
Knowing no mirror is warped enough to make this look ok
I see what is real
In people’s eyes
In their hands holding their children a little tighter
I turn my back
Nothing matters but this
This tiny moment of being
I try to sit
But my limbs shake and wriggle
Like naughty children sitting through prayers
Words that make no sense but somehow fill your pockets
Make your feet drag
Your head sink
Your being drown
Sunken by the pouring rain
I look for things
A plan
But there is no tactic
All I know is this
I stand rooted to the hut
Stuck in bad weather