Jesus, Jammies, and Norman Rockwell
Don't Dis My Kid

Ode to Melting Snow

Shoppers

 

Oh melting snow, how you betray me!

My secrets are no longer safe with you.

My blue-bagged weekly shoppers,

a crushed cereal box, encrusted with tire tracks,

and Halloween wrappers taunt me in the sun.

My loins ache for your smooth blanket, hiding the earth's imperfections, 

like Spanx on my ass. 

Your melting mantle reveals spring's unrelenting reality:

I have sh*t to clean. Poop

Not poetic metaphorical sh*t,

but literal sh*tty sh*t--

in piles, 

mounds,

and heaps.

Still frozen thank God,

my fellow poop-scooping-peeps.


Oh melting snow, how dare you reveal the deep secrets I keep in my cul-de-sac?

Two Christmas trees,

adorned with prisms of light,

innumerable tangled extention cords, 

no longer romantic undulations in your white landscape,

but brown crispy shadows on the uncovered lot line of neighbor north.  

Xmas trees

Oh melting snow, redeem my sadness and shed light on winter's deepest mysteries.

Did snowbound baby have to thumb it for the smokes?

Stroller

Did matching heel awake from sweet slumber with vomit-caked locks by the side of a stranger?

Heel in snow

Oh, melting snow,

I curse you,

and long for days gone by,

when I could forget the world and snooze on the couch.

But faced with your imminent departure,

I'm forced to buy a shitload of mulch.



 

 


 

 

Comments