It's always windy in Wyoming
It's always windy in Wyoming. It's always something but me and her, which is all I ever thought I would need. The weather is like a woman, and like a specific woman. It's never the same, but it's always there, reminding you that you live in her world; she does not live in yours. Like the wind, she tore past you, went through you, left you alone, wondering and waiting and lost. The weather changes quickly, and so did she when she went right through you. But, unlike the weather, she changed you, humbled you, and made you hers. Like the weather, she reminds you that you are almost insignificant, and she can warm you or chill you to the bone, but it isn't because she cares or does not. Like the weather, she is what she is. You prepare for her. She doesn't even notice you. The wind does not want or need or even know you are there. It does what it does. You can't even see the wind, but you know it is there. I wait for her to shine on me again, just like the sun on...