here comes my cat. he’s going to help me write this. today’s subject: ice. not to write a scientific paper, but to point you in the direction in case it has gone unnoticed or has been underappreciated. then I’m going to eat some bread and go to sleep. every work day I pass over the Potomac River on my way to work. it’s just cold enough so that it’s frozen over, but warm enough that it’s began to melt and crack in what seems to be perfect shards in place over the surface. it never ceases to blow my mind every time I see it. at night, the lights of the city reflect off it, and as I described it to Amanda, it’s like a dark marble floor down there. how miraculous it is that a large body of water freezes solid and you can walk across it. tragic that it sometimes breaks and becomes one of the most dangerous deathpits.
moments in ice history: George and his friends from It’s a Wonderful Life slid down the hill on shovels and across the ice at the bottom. He rescued his brother who cracked a thin patch, but not without harm to himself; he got pnuemonia and lost hearing in his left ear for life. “that’s my trick ear,” he would say. we were told Eskimos walked across the ice to reach whole new continents. don’t know that much more about it because I slept through it in school. I’m catching up now because I have a real curiousity about things, to be an explorer. my teachers were wrong about me after all.
it is recommended: once a year, go somewhere you’ve never been. hell, my challenge is to do that every day. idealistic? maybe. hopeful? yes.
the metro floors, when wet, mimic ice, taking a liking especially to my new shoes which seem a little squeamish on that particular surface. take note of that, that I cannot act like a bad ass on that platform lest I want it all pulled out from under me.
slush turns to ice. ice in my cup of water, despite being told that room temperature drinks are better for me. I’m stubborn, I like a cold shot of water, or orange juice, or carrot juice.
why notes on ice? why the hell not? why the hell not? I’ve gotta scrawl about something. it’s a part of my life now. a certain time period. I’m learning to like winter. it’s the hardest season for me, but so far I’m getting through it and living life . . . remember back in 2001 when you worked that crappy job (which one?) and crossed the river every day, and how beautiful it was, how if you had kids you’d point it out to them with affection and they would be so glued to that window? yes, you’d be a good father.
people tell you all kinds of things.
BGKPOETRY.COM 