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Yonkers and back, an hour each way. The first thing I feel every day is the shock of the cold as the door eases shut behind me and I gage the temp based on the abundance of frozen smoke with every breath. So I struggle to start my beaten green car, and shiver for a while as she warms up. I’m sitting bumper to bumper on the parkway looking at the ice-glazed trees and the glaciers on the rocks. I keep opening the window because I need the cold to shock me out of this thinking. and I need to stop looking in the mirror. I’m only doing it to remind myself what I look like and wonder what she saw when she looked at me. and because there’s nothing on the radio apart from pedestrian romantic songs. On the way back I can’t see the trees or the rocks. I find myself looking at the thousands of pairs of lights and white lines racing the opposite way out of the dark, and wishing they were passing days. I feel almost teary eyed as it is, and on every, every, every, station love songs. |
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