Cold

The cold is like a slap in the face

My car is a metal snow cone

Doors frozen shut

Feet crunch crunch crunch

On the slip and slide pavement

I swear softly so as not to wake

Our nice neighbors

As I dig my silver bullet Pontiac

Free of its watery prison

The cold makes my hands red

Even with gloves on

Am I too old for this?

Winter cares not

It will be winter

If I like it or not

Turn on the engine

Run inside to waiting coffee

Four am my hands clutching warm

Cup

Let the car idle for a while

Soon it will be time for work

A place to go at my age

To be with people I like

Try to do a good job

Show kindness as I go

About my day

Coffee cup is empty

The cold is waiting

My feet crunch crunch crunch

As I take little steps

Don’t need to fall down again

Had enough of the falling down

Shit show

Put on my gloves and wool hat

Slide across the car seat

The Pontiac G 6 is a warm cocoon

My car tires crunch crunch crunch

As I drive slowly from our little hill

Let the day begin.