Be Careful What You Ask For by Emmy Lu Daly

Fingers numb, neck stiff, nose red.
Ah, how I dream of a warmer time.
Will it ever come? Will I make it to then?
Months pass. I am expiring at the bus stop.
Fruitlessly fanning my face with a newspaper,

about to dissolve into the concrete.

Why, why did I ever long for a midsummer’s day?
Wouldn’t I be happier if I learned to accept what is

and just live with it?