surrounded by icy flood, we float, haggard in the snow, drenched in a certain kind of nostalgia. i like the greek version better, the bend of the tongue, nohstahlllgeia. we have always been like this, on the bend of the tongue while icicles swam up our sleeves and my mouth found your breast. have you been bad? she smiles, slides an arm around me, pulls me near, i have been very naughty. and we dance, we dance, while winter drowns the rest of this little town into submission