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Before We Fly to Nieve-Nieve Land
By Colleen Foster
It may be safe, but there is no
easy way through Safeway because
every green screen screamed of white. So to escape some Donner Party scenario
we pile our buggies high in Oregon Trail mode with
enough toilet paper to teepee the house we can’t leave for seventy-two hours,
and twelve-packs of Stella and Heineken to make us forget that,
and cans--canned soup, canned fruit, canned laughter on a basement TV marathon
assuming the power doesn’t succumb.
The media’s warnings spike a fever while we inch forward in snaking checkout lines.
But the woman in a black peacoat has only a Target gift card and a
fuchsia rose bouquet.
Another man has
birthday balloons tethered to a plastic basket like the house in Up.
There will be birthdays--even first ones, with the the help of brave doctors and nurses
who traded snow boots for scrubs once they
delivered themselves to the hospital igloo.
In the heat of cabin fever, perhaps some grudges will forced to thaw in close quarters
long before the snow does.
We brace ourselves for bitter Old Man Winter to yell at us to get off his lawn
(so he can dump an Arctic tundra on it) and buy our necessities.
But we still buy our
balloons and roses.
#Unreal #Poem #Snowmageddon2016 #SnowDays #SealedIn #Winter
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