Cabin Fever

Cabin Fever. The firewood in the hearth hiss and smoke refuse to burn bright, these limbs of a giant will not heat my cabin this winter evening. I must have done something wrong, don’t know what. I have doused the flaccid limbs with alcohol, drank some too, now the fire is burning bright with an inner ice blue tint. From the floor looking up I see the roof is on fire. Someone knocks on my door, I’m a pirate burning my ship, there is rum for everyone; for the dreary I’ve diet coke and for the loony there is low fat yogurt.