Cupreous Integument

Winter, bleak and static, hangs its ugly weight upon the air. I take refuge behind a small mountain of collar and scarves. My hair, in dead-fright, stands on end, electrified, intense. My mittens, a creamy froth of electric distress. My scarf fringe gropes a nearby wool coat.

I hear a plaintive whir and turn my eyes to a shadow in the street. A figure, tall and stately, approaches in the scanty light. I make out, indistinctly at first, a diadem of metal wreaths, wrapping their refulgent coils around each braid of this glittering nymph. Exiguous threads trail like copper freckles down her face and neck. This lustrous overlay seemingly obnubilates her body and converges at her heels. A slender cable in her shoe animates the dial whose mellifluous voice first drew my notice. A small wheel marks each watt rushing to the pavement through the tic-tac hobs of copper that give a “clack” to each static-free stride.

If only I could touch her arm, I think, as my hair spines into the wind. I breathe a frosty static sigh.



[editor’s note: We regret to announce that the author of this piece, after purchase of the Cupreous Integument, failed to notice the “Do not wear in thunderstorms” warning inscribed on the soles of her shoes. Her untimely departure will be dearly departed with.]