Vinter Vunderland

Oh, the wind still curls and howls around the corners, but the kids don't care, they are sliding down the immense mountains of snow piled up by the tractors. The parking lot is impossible, and part of the roadway is still impassable; they brought in dump trucks to help cart the snow away, there isn't anywhere to put it.

Sometimes they are able to dump it directly into the Buffalo River if there is so much; usually the environmental agencies discourage that because of the salt, car pollutants, etc, that go along with it. It is impossible to get in and out of the lot, I became stuck twice today exiting, then on the way in when they made a line of cars back up the one way street so the dozers could load up the trucks. The snow is deep in the streets, and difficult to guess where your car will land.

My little car is now fixed, there were bad wheel bearings, a brake pad issue, and a nail in one of the tires. Good lord. The mechanic is a godsend, a worldly fellow, a good man. Took a chunk out of the bank account, but it had to happen; between the snowstorm, the inaccessibility to the street/parking/weather crap, and the money, Boston is a dream. I have to call dear dear Scott today and tell him, spoke to him yesterday, he said not to sweat it. But, wah.

Bri got safely to the airport, and at last phone call was waiting for the train in Baltimore. Oh, it was good to see him, hear him, hug him. The lad.

Alright, all you ott and culcha lovers outta the room, for while waiting for the car to be repaired:
White snow, small woman in a red jacket; a walking blood drop
on silk. Cars slotted into snow cases, fossils suspended in frozen, ponderous weight. Warm bodies of undefined gender bring shovels.
Unearth these ice crystal tombs,
Open the sarcophagus. Unbox the horse, who
Slips unshod forward and back. Rocking horse, fly
up over the mounds, comet tails bursting from hooves.
Plow furrows and heave your strong back into the harness of gears
Mechanical paladin. Pull time back into service, time dances around
The frosty yards on light feet diurnal, nocturnal,
Winter solstice, spring equinox. Clap TickTock back
Into the braces, move your wheels, thick clods slow him down.
Draw water, burn stone, weave through the ruts and hills
And bring us to our completed destination. Lever and wedge
Heave-ho atomic chains of hexagonal explosion aside,
Sloppy paths relaxed and uncertain pointing direction
Roundabout compass. Home. I want to go home.

There's another about birds in the storm, but we can save it for later.

Bedtime story: Once there was a monkey who cut off his tail and said: "Well, it won't be long now." You sleep warm, safe, dream of heroes.