Feb 3, 2008

Down Sheridan Drive.

snow banks, tall and awkward--
alive, unknowingly cold

and too tempting
clunky feet go first,
then legs,
obviously to cold wetness
(until much later,
when peeling off shoes, plastic bag-covered-socks...
too broke to buy snowboots)

plop down, butt first, then
back, arms out and whoosh. whoosh. whoosh.
a powder marble angel appears.

another, then another and off!
running, laughing,
falling, sliding, kissing

the lake.

overwhelmed by the crystal emense foreverness until...
crash!
the apartments buildings leering up
and
the abandened playgrounds whispering, come
come
swing higher and jump

into the soft--not a blanket, but more like
a pile of icy, mashed potatoes--snow

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