Spring Time

in this april day that thinks it is december,

lots of people around me are sad

and the stories are tunneling from the ground

John Frusciante

Thomas Disch

Sylvia Plath

The Brave Little Toaster

and all the other people apparently reading about them

the april cold leaves people naked

and confused

before the storm

not believing this is true

as the clouds rumble in

thick as the deep seas they carry

I will choose my slippers over shoes

in defiance of this absurdity