Tuesday

I walked outside at dawn.

My feet were pleasantly surprised by the sudden wafer-like crunch of the thin layer of snowflakes and ice.

The street lined up perfectly with the parked cars and dead trees. A funeral seating fit for a burnt-out star.

Whatever colors that survived the interstellar journey broke through the cottonball clouds and shined more vividly than the fresh memories of a lucid dream.

It’s beautiful out.

Suns out guns out.

Let’s be beautiful together.