Little bundles of sharp ice scrape my face

Falling from the pitch dark night sky

Becoming illuminated in a yellow cones under the street lights

A fluid mosaic painted by nature

 

I pass under the brick arch and my shoes grit

Wet and dirty

Against the smooth, white granite.

 

I walk up the stairs and on the way up, my hand

brushes against the icy metal handrail and

I breath warm air onto my fingers in an

Attempt to revitalize what already

Had lost all feelings in the icy darkness.

 

I arrive at the top of the stairs and start crossing the street

I see my dorm twenty meters ahead, but a pickup truck zooms towards me from the right

As the headlights become brighter and brighter, I back up, to let the speeding truck pass uninhibited

But instead it stops, illuminated in front of me, spotlighted in the padded silence.

The window roles down and a thirty year old

man with an unkempt beard and

dirty face and

ratty hair and

little, beady eyes glares at me,

“Go back to China, we don’t want you here in ‘merica”

Grungy spittle flies from his mouth, freezing before it

settles on the ground right beside the ice crystals, creating

dots of impurities blended in, like a

wolf in sheep’s clothing.

He drives away, the taillights disappearing around the curve.

The smell of gasoline from the exhaust lingering for a few more

seconds, before being blown away by the icy gusts.

 

I continue to walk forward and open the door to my dorm

Where heat rushes to my face, and prickles my fingertips

I slam the door shut and cut off the flurry of snow that came in with me.

I throw my coat onto the couch, and take off my hat and scarf.

I gather with friends in the common room, watching TV and playing board games.

 

From inside, darkness is abated

And the harsh, cold outside becomes insignificant.