winter’s beeyatch

i’m all over this…the snow and cold and winds like maniacal bellows,  off the lake.  

bring it on john dee, meteorologists, lame-o snow birds.  those who bitch about any season besides summer,  for i am truly ready….

….for life flight.

ski season sits on the front porch like a familiar, former girlfriend who never accepted i didn’t hear her knocking at the door. 

i heard you. 

i was just waxing my skis.   

when the snow comes, i have my priorities.

if it comes as they say it might, i will gladly shovel my 200-foot long driveway by hand while the nearest neighbor fires up a  many bowls and drives back and forth on the road, piling a 3-foot drift in front of my humble abode, using it as a non-verbal, yet common form of communication on superior’s north shore known as “fuck you neighbor.” 

i’m all over this.

bizzatch.

wind and snow and cold and subtle suggestions from former and future lovers cats.

winter sends me into a prose-filled tizzy.

i am (again) a poet.

i am (again) centered.  at least until march.

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About borealbilly

i am cursed by nocturnal self-awareness. View all posts by borealbilly

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