Mouth opens wide
to gulp in 
the sloppy love
that is sloshing around
on this particular 
Wednesday.
Hoping
that stasis and tundras
are behind me.
Leaping from last year’s iceberg
into windows of opportunity.
I am sticky,
glazed in the caramel sweetness
of this fleeting happiness.
Why fleeting?
Why is the happiness like snow melting
      helplessly away?
And the anger - ?
  like a fucking barnacle 
that will withstand nuclear warfare.



©    sheabreauxwells  2002