I Think It's Saturday

Back Here in Siberolina

The more I sit
In a routine cold

The more a confusion creeps in

It snowed again
When
I don't know
It comes in waves

And then it's gone

A biting cold is the new routine
I sit
Inside
With three trapped cats
I think it's Saturday

I hear distant explosions
More than once

It will melt
It always does
Maybe on a Saturday