bored with winter

bored with winter.
with sneezing
and wrapping a scarf
around your hot
itchy head.
you think about
taking a greyhound bus
to florida.
you want to sink
your teeth into a
fat juicy orange,
lie on the beach
all pasty white in
your underwear
and sip on a coconut
drink with rum
and a little blue
umberella sticking
out of the top.
you won't bring any
books or phones
or computers with you.
you want to lie
there and look at the
women in their
bikinis sashaying
along the white sands.
you might strike up
a conversation
with one, and say
hey, what's up, or
something like that.
you are bored with winter.
scraping ice
off the windsheild
of your car,
of nodding at your
barista as you get your
daily cup of coffee,
you are tired
of trying to scratch
an itch in the middle
of your back
that you can't reach.
maybe in florida
someone could do that
for you. maybe not.