Much Ado about NOTHING

MMXI

Welcome to January. The streets are lined with melting snow mounds, slowly trickling into nonexistence. Pedestrians trudge single-file down narrow sidewalk trails, puddle jumpers resolving to cure millennial hangovers. Cars swish past at half speed, circling for spaces, for niches of nothing. Time's snail creeps its way down the darkening afternoon, groping toward yet another future. The old year's a ghost; the new one's nervous. What's that looming though the twilight? Is this the year? What kind of days are these? Questions accumulate at compound interest.

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