Short Stories and Poems

The hurricane didn’t hit us.

Nothing but wind

While we waited for the drenching

Sheets and inches of snow

And tried to remember where the blue plastic

Sled with the crack was-


We watched it on the news-

Wet bodies wading through New York streets-

Layers of thick snow and the rush of adrenalin

That comes with anxious anticipation of a change-

Tears, anguish, hope-

Any change-

an excuse to eat chips and dip and calorie-laden granola bars

and drag in wet wood for a fire

to struggle against the cold

in an unheated bedroom

to breathe cold air as it would catch in our throats

any change

Which never came.

One response to “Caine”

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