remember the sun

low on cake
you decide to venture out
into the white
wilderness
that is the world now.
coffee would be nice too.
not the kind you make
at home,
but from a barista
who will tell you
to be safe,
stay warm.
you haven't seen a human
in almost forty eight hours,
which is okay,
you can live with that,
but a newspaper
would be a welcome relief
from the babbling
news heads and looped traffic
jams and wrecks.
you need to get out.
to tramp through
the drifts to a place
that is open,
a place where the haughty
and proud four wheel
drive men and women
stand around and laugh,
to hear a voice, to
see if anyone out there
is still alive.
the sun is out. you
remember the sun,
don't you?