Thursday, February 3, 2011

The Cold Front

Vile words echo again,
Nine to eighteen inches overnight,
Perhaps this is premature, could be different this time through,
Another town, some other day,
On cue the host adds a caveat, minimum nine tonight, guaranteed,
Better bundle up, this one’s going to be nasty,

Smacking the dash as I park the car,
No need for anger, no reason yet,
Rust decorates the slush as I close the door,
Dark clouds pouring in, a new chill as flakes fall,
Guess that promise was filled with emptiness,
Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas, three months after the fact,
Deck the Hall, What’s this guy stalking me?
With boughs of holly, blah, blah, blah, and then and then
An unconscious response, from fist to beard, Four cops swarm
With guns drawn, but forty minutes later Santa said he holds no ill will towards me,
Conveniently I walked, into the Store, but some foreigner starts yelling we closed, we closed,
All I want is a lousy loaf of bread, some milk and some eggs,
Pulls out a bat and starts swinging, bells jingle as I’m exiting, cops nowhere around,

Staring at the walls, she’s still not home, should I worry, my heart begins to race,
We’ve been through this one before.  I’ll sit and wait as the darkness fills the clouds black and grey
I’ll watch the front as it rides on through, and picture her pacing and rehearsing the excuses she’ll use.

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