Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

My office is an ice box
on days like these.
When I forget my umbrella
and my bones are soaked
with the earth's polluted water.
The arctic chill of this old building's air conditioning
blasts through my ventilation system
and vexes me with a cold that can't be escaped.

A delicate layer of frost coats my upper lip
and small crystals form between my curls.
My sweater, soaked and clinging to me
now a thin layer of ice, like a natural vest of cold.

I wish I were home.

6-9-09

a voice transformed in a building and maybe a home... enjoyed the images in that, lucy! warm your soul, amiga!!!!!!!!!

here, have some hot chocolate

that's one cold office you work in, lucy. typo on arctic. most enjoyable.

I like the description.

I wonder if a more ominous ending might involve suddenly starting to feel at home, or warm, or sleepy?

Lucy your power of description is fantastic. Your bring the reader into your experience. Great writing.

John