Winter

My life is a coal train
crossing the frozen wastes
of America.

The winter holds me captive
and I can only stumble
bewildered through
buildings designed
for other men.

People are finding it difficult
to disguise their discomfort
when presented with my face
and I am finding it difficult
to pretend that I do not notice.

I lie on the bed with
electrodes taped to my chest
as the nurses gossip
about me behind the curtain.

They think I’m stupid
but the truth is I’m
paralyzed by intelligence
by a crippling self-consciousness.

I am the hand holding
the short straw
the permanent cross
and the snow forming in the air
is just a prelude to the ice
glazed over black mountains
in the distance I can feel
but never touch.