Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Arctic Blast

I see the young lass in my rearview mirror
licking her chops. She cant stop. She's unaware
she's even licking them. Her tongue's a lizard
testing out the windchill factor, going back inside
only to stick it's head out again and make sure the reading it got was right.

Cant be.

Yep, is.

Naaaa, cant be that cold.

Yep is.




No way!

Yep. 'Tis

She reaches into her backpack and pulls out mittens.
Not fingerless gloves. Fully hand sewn mittens. Not even
with finger shapes. Hand socks.

Light goes green. I drive off and hit DUAL on the
heater. In the mirror I see her in her Katmandu get-up
and that little lizard still checking the temperature.

Holy shit. This is cold.

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