Popsickles On Ice Patches

Vintage Words


The raised brow to my comment

exuded the concept of "Frosty!"

Trumped like cards, you came

down on me a bit and I wavered

like a wind whipped wheat field;

grainy, resistant.


Swirls of cold spun milk

and vanilla, frosty. Your order

was intended to inspire

and make me move faster

as if I were the extension

of your will and ideation



Crisp in the corners

like ice forming on a window

you can not see through

for the frost.


The old system you ran no longer

works here. Your edges, a bit too

chilly m'dear, met a hot sweltering

and firestorm reply to melt

ice skate frozen water where

feet are frostbitten and ready

to go home to warmth.







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