This would be the day I would hold out for when it would be
okay to turn on the head, when I still lived in a cold water flat with a gas
heater in the kitchen, as old fashioned as anything my grandmother might have
known growing up, although even then, in the depths of my poverty I knew the
best way to keep warm was to rub two bodies together, though lacking that these
days, I rub two sticks together in my head and dream of warmer climes, warmer
times, knowing that at this late date, even that won’t do, too far away to resort
to old habits, though I still think of how it might feel if I did, too distant
geographically to connect. One does not find the same comfort via zoom as one
does wrapped up in the bedroom. So I leave the heat off for at least one more
day, holding out, hoping my imagination can warm me, when nothing else does
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