Snowy Palate

The black shone through the glass,
Tapping on my shoulder with cold fingers.
It was slow but sudden, like my ablazed icy friend.

Ignoring its gestures, the pressing of
Its presence, I turned to my companion.
Fair skinned and fragile, my attention was hers only.
She had me sweating and pacing, breathing and smoking;
A double bassed beating was the rythm of our dance.
Soon I realized how flammably numb I had been rendered,
And sooner still she was gone with the wind.
Leaving me with only jumbled pictures and sounds
In stark contrast with the sun's mirror's abode.

The flat fabric looked appealing, and called out,
But was incompatable.
Instead I took the chilled fingers in hand
And danced on the rooftops, scaled the monstrously limbed.
It appeared I had moved very little.

Still no fatigue, not the slightest feeling
To compromise my open shutters.
Now burdened and spurred by the racing of blood
And howl of mental winds,
I was stuck in a city without sleep.
I wonder if anyone can tell
That this all happened last night...