the argument

we disagree.

me and the weather, she insists
on being cold,

windy.

she's unresponsive to my
desires,
my needs.

almost heartless
in how she changes and lowers
her temperature
by a dozen degrees.

we are not seeing eye to eye
on things.

I want it warm
and bright, she wants it dark
and wet.

she is the face of gloom,
a blue fist
on the horizon.

i'm holding my ground though
as I stand outside
in
a thin jacket,

barefoot and hatless.

but she's winning this argument,
I don't think

we'll ever get past this.