Asia’s Rain

Don’t run up Cheese Factory Road
on the second Sunday in January
if the wind has already beaten you
as you came up Palmer Hill.
You can sit in your warm office
in the late afternoon and search
the Internet for the word “cornice”
then browse through awesome pictures
of silver crystals whipping from the top
of a curled, white ridge, while dramatic
blue-sky backgrounds let you imagine
how fucking cold the photographer was.
At least you won’t be the one plucking
ice from your eyebrows and wondering
what frost-bitten earlobes look like.
You can Google that later too.
Don’t pretend that coming down
is easier than going up,
such thoughts are fools thoughts
when your mantra should be:
Wind-chill saps the body’s strength.
Let someone else berate themselves
for forgetting their face mask.
Let someone else drink Gatorade slush
in their last few miles.
Then call me and tell me how you
drove past some poor bastard struggling
up Cheese Factory Road.
I’ll be soaking in a hot bath,
but I’ll still pick up the phone.

My face was warm as I sat and thought
About the money, and the money, and the money.
My feet were as cold as a slice of January wind.
And somehow I just sat there
Feeling everything within my warm face
And cold feet,
Wondering if you were coming to find me,
Or coming to despise me,
While I thought about the money.
I wondered if you would ever come
Or call.
My cheeks felt like a hand slap,
My freezing feet.
I kept looking through the dingy glass
To see if you were following
Or up ahead,
Wondering if you were far behind,
If you were cold or warm,
If you thought about the money.
I sat and despised my sitting.
I thought and despised my thinking.
And the money–How I despised the money.

I twist to keep the wind
from freezing snow against my soul.
I flex my dreams and shards of ice
fly off my blue eternities.
She howls, the memory of my last winter,
so beautiful and cold,
reminding me of the strength
of her embrace
and how my frozen tears
could only flow
when she let go.

I hear the sun
sweep jagged clouds
outside my door
where soon will come a knock.

Come in, I’ll call,
if you are warmth.