July 24, 2013

1075. Snow melts

a tracheotomy delivering smoke

through the thin man selling ice

cream; truck painted colors don't

show the heat outside or the freezers

hip-height lining the walls holding antidote

to sweating barefoot at the driveway's edge.

Bikes wait, held, like child-props; other bikes

lay in the grass, owner's hands in jeans, fingering

a dollar and two coins. Painting a snow scene like a

snow cone, sweltering near a pot-belly stove full of wood

burning up the small room in the kitchen wear mittens drip

and wet socks get peeled off like pain relieving a brain-freeze,

head aching from too cold too fast, and hot, finally the drips stiffen

and shrink the mittens, the socks, while hours dry the leather boots,

years drawn skin around the face of the ice cream man, warming him

self through his tracheotomy, kind to cover his throat to talk the fine print.

Posted by nancy at July 24, 2013 01:00 PM
Comments
Post a comment









Remember personal info?