Chico De Ciudad
“quieres?”
...
he murmured,
before handing me an innocuous key;
covered in a small heap of chalky powder.
likening a soft morning in december,
sun glistening on newly cascaded snow.
do i indulge in such a day?
run barefoot onto the winter lawn;
oblivious to the dangerous,
slipping on ice covertly hidden.
or do i stay inside?
comforted by a four-walled safety net.
forever curious of the mystifying outdoors.
...
“por supuesto.”
