The Longest Month

I hate February. The smug way it folds its arm across its chest. As if to imply there is no changing its mind. Ever.

Icicle garter belts keep the siding up on houses. Yeast infections spill from every chimney post. There is a gag in every breath.

Small gods in a classroom of deities piss all over the lessons written on the chalkboard. The stillest algebra. The weather. Makes us small again. We squint to focus those distant equations. But it's still inches away from clarity.

I hate February. How arrogantly it slips between January and March. How morbidly obese each one of its days is. Making the whole year so much longer.

I hate February. How it's always right.