Capping off a cold day here downtown, every street a wind tunnel, every coffee shop window a welcome oasis. I'm heading over home for a quick stop-off before meeting Sal for our weekly shoot-the-shit.
It's a quiet one, too, today, I don't see many people, don't hear many things. I blink just a little longer than usual, sends my body chills when those lids meet up and my eyes turns to ice. But nothing a little barley, water, rye, and wheat can't handle.
Age me in a bourbon barrel, just to see what happens. I'd like to see that, taste the difference, wonder what the cherrywood what-have-you seeps into my skin. Will I darken, sweeten, will I be bold and bitter, even more than now I am already. Will I have nose and legs and anything else that makes me human. Will I go down smooth. Will you want me at all.
A chill! I've been gabbing too long, I never gab short. Sal will wonder where I am. He'll be there on his stool, checking his watch, thinking to himself, thinking about whatever he thinks about when he's alone. I wonder if he thinks about what I think about when I'm alone, if it's him or work or weather or what. Although I guess the point of being friends is we don't have to think about each other.
No one's out today. Everybody's home. Everybody's got the same idea. Everybody's looking for a little source of warmth, a good swaddling, growing in so tomorrow they can reach out grabbing, doubled might and clear vision. Cold gets to people, and it gets them freezing, but in the end it gets them warm, you stick it out and know what to do.
No comments:
Post a Comment