I'm buffeted by a whistling gale,
as I hunch forward,
trying vainly to lower my profile.
My skin turns red,
then purple,
then blue,
the epidermis
slowly ceding to the dermis,
and the chapping chill
growing warmer
with each moment.
It's hard to keep my eyes open,
but I can see an object
just up ahead
in my brief glimpses.
I hope it's shelter,
or, if nothing else, a deep ravine.
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