All those blizzard letters snaking across
the yard spelling “shiver,” spelling “cold,”
and one whole sentence, “spring will never come,”
they piss me off. An icicle of frozen piss
hangs down from a neighbor’s house, gold
in direct sunlight, briefly. Nope. Now it’s gone.
How I long for a warm night in May at the Barn,
Chastity Brown singing “oh la oh la” and then drums,
those drums…when I listen in the car, I pound
the steering wheel, I thump it, I hit it hard,
I sing along. Winter’s stalled. The doldrums
(“a belt of calms and light baffling winds”)
sound utterly lovely compared to this.
This snow. This mood. This lack of beer. This ice.
_____
Fortunately, the lack of beer can be remedied. Were I at the Sh*tty Barn, it would be a Fatty Boombalatty I’d be drinking. So I will hoist one, this evening perhaps, and trust that someday soon, I’ll be at the barn.
And if you haven’t listened to Chastity Brown, you oughta. The song where she’s singing “oh la oh la” (and I’m not at all sure how to spell that) is called “After You.”
marniere 