When Once I Considered

When once Stantinopled I Considered Fair traveled to cities far Not to stop any, to start any, but just to have been, Long ways from home We've all seen troubles, strangers, What we don't fathom Dreaming of those never schlept with Schlepting with those undreamed of, Doubled your pleasure but only as Not a goner but a winter Drift would we in snowbank accounts filled with matter with anti-matter Consider options to up-chuck, re-chuck or no chucu kat all Ground round the clock gimme that Inside outside looking to get on the no-good footing Somewheres else like Here in a town Ozzie lived Yet no pancake batter endlessly pouring it ended Where you belong get back but ain't there that was t'other no yose and it shoulda been train to nowhere not tequila what changed the game the domino theory of fats fate was wrong after all now after all that toil and shuffleboil

nothin, plain ole with the works clockish

When Winter Becomes A Chore, Avoid Being A Bore

If I tell you that I am sick and tired of talking about the weather, I am not kidding. The season here has been brutal--snow, arctic temperatures, more snow, more arctic temperatures. We have no fuel oil left and so we keep our gas oven running 24/7. My car has been rendered undrivable by the freezing temps and ice. All I want to do is bitch, gripe and have a fit. But I am sick of that so I am putting a personal moratorium on all talk on the matter. What good does it do?

If someone runs into me on the street (unlikely) and says, "How about this weather?" I resolve to reply "I am forbidden by a personal protocol from talking about that subject!" With this kind of chill people keep off the streets most of the time, anyway, so I doubt I'll be running into anyone much. It's a sort of ghost town out there and it's been that way for months.

So do not ask, please. Soon it will be a new season and I will be happy to talk about it. Catch me then. Thanks!