the side walk is icy today.
walking across the front lawn I think it would make nice
desolate plains for an apocalyptic video game.
I think of texting this to a friend then remember not everything has to be texted.
I slog through the broken plains and wish I had taken the sidewalk,
slide onto the sidewalk and wish I had taken the street-
salted, plowed, with perfect friction
I can’t remember when I started walking on the street
Stopped leaping from snowdrift to slush puddle
Did my boots change? Are they no longer something to be proud of?
Was it my hips? Creaking too loudly, uncared for, breakable.
I choose the sidewalk
slip slowly on the bumpy ice
it is not the same, I am too cautious, but I start to remember
when and how and why I loved the ice
my eyes seek ahead to the next glimmering patch
a jewel among the rough, snow
what terrible friction
I step over a dull patch
delight to find the largest ice patch yet
shuffle my feet.