December Blues
The first December morning bled frost all over
cars & grass. It galvanized
the dog shit and whisked away cigarette ashes
into another dimension.
It's going to be another cold one.
I scraped the ice off my windows for ten
minutes, watched the shavings float down
on invisible parachutes. There was
enough to clump into a snowball but
no one to throw it at.
Defrost, defrost, de-
frost.
Driving along, there were old ladies wrapped up
like Christmas presents in coats
& blankets. Their bells and red buckets
jingled in the frigid breeze but
no coins clinked in the slots.
Hard times this month.
Winter was right on time to hoard
the food scraps & chap our lips.
Nothing to do but wipe away the
sleep, sing the December blues.
Fa-la-la-la-la.
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