Morning Action Poem by Robert Brendan

colder its getting quicker.
in the city I live in
the winters are brutally
cold.
It gets as low as minus
thirty degrees Celsius
for about a month
of the year
summer never comes
at least not until
June.
if we're lucky
and when the winter does
arrive
it does so with one hundred
boxes full of typewriter
parts falling on each
citizen of
the metro area.
no, really.
its that bad.
Anyone who takes public
transit
to terrible jobs in
this town
or even school
paid for
by your
parents
knows what hell is.
And hell is cold.