This Poem was Submitted By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2002-11-09 14:30:29 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Bleep it's **#% cold here!

Let’s see now Mukluks and gloves Sweater Muffler and toque Down coat I don’t like long john’s (except the kind one eats) Outside the biting wind almost pierces my unexposed skin My face turns beet red, almost rubbery As I try to defy the 30 below I stumble, struggle, and slip to my car on ice only fit for skaters And come across it layered in snow Out comes the brush and scraper The noise reverberates against the morning stillness      As I scrape what seems like inches of ice   Off my windshield The windshield wipers beat out … cccccold, cccccold Do I have to go to work? Do I have to go to work? Not even the birds are flying! Into the car I scramble for protection But damn it’s frosty in here My breath hangs in foggy icicles As the engine whines against its frozen lubricants It catches. Roar. A welcome sound Now I have to sit and wait, and wait Until the heater gives me something other than benumbing My mind reels why I ever moved back to Canada And I try never to ask why. I know there isn’t an answer… Yet there is The battlefield called my name years ago!

Copyright © November 2002 arnie s WACHMAN

Additional Notes:
It's winter now. P.S.: You look up the words!


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