Northern Tier

the smoke and exhaust fumes

stagnate in the air like jizz ribbons

that make contact with aquarium water

and everywhere the actors and agents look,

the hyphens magically appear before the

highway numbers as if from the ether

this is the momentary epoch

the kind that seems static for twenty millenia

the one where the vigesimal system dies a

slow, agonizing death from frostbite and gangrene

of course, this is the way of tundra existence or

rather existence on the northern tier

the noses glow red

the urine becomes a parabolic ice sculpture

when sprayed into the face of Old Man Winter

and the preventable death toll rises when

the lonely and despondent and forgotten

become reacquainted with their old friends,

eggnog and bourbon

secrets rise from the grave and grandchildren

become more warped than maple furniture in

a flash flood

and while the cold paralyzes the world at large,

the heat in the southern tier does not fare any better

and while happy thoughts of the south fill

the minds of the northern denizens,

the cold still strangles the region with a

G.I. Joe kung-fu grip

so until the extreme cold breaks,

smoke imitates coffee swirls and

people will become immobile on

the ground after a six-hour bender

god bless us everyone!

Reviews

[W.k.kortas]

This is wry and highly observant stuff, and, speaking as one who spent some of the best days of his life in the land where the satellite dishes were pointed squarely at the horizon, it rings true

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thanks, W.K. Good to see you again.