The Second Worst Month

The professor is waving

his hands at a blank screen

ignoring the blinding reflection

of swirling snow

which winks a pearly sheen.

My pineapple chunks

reek of sugar and sweet

but I swallow the exotic sun

and run my tongue

over the make-believe heat.

This month- made alive by

a fruit- is an otherwise wan

array of bleak gray days.

At least before you realize

what happened, it's