Rob Nadolski: No More
No more hiding behind horsehair and wool,
thick as thieves. No more scratching obscenities into frosted
windows. No more teeth biting holes into our cheeks, chattering
away in a Morse code, damning the cold. Let us emerge from cabin
fever and pale skin. Let us absorb ultraviolet exaltation and
synthesize vitamin D.
A quick equinox, a simple solstice and we’ll
make a memory of bare foliage, colorless vistas, ice related death.
We’ll meet in a park and together burn our mittens, scorch tinsel
and garland glittering with smug holiday joy, shred furnace filters
and dance around all their flying bits.
Winter, you tried to kill me didn’t you? You
came without warning and brandished a predictable arsenal. Ah, but
your frost is no match for spring’s relentless onslaught of floral
plumage and sweet air, moist as pound cake.
No more. No more knit hats and heavy boots.
No more dead batteries and slick sidewalks. Let’s send microchips,
send satellite dishes spinning into the night. Let’s find reasons
to be lakefront, hillside, streetwise frontiersmen and
petticoat-clad pioneer women.
You are banished. Pack your things and scat.
May your exile be longer than elephant memory. Long and complete.
And while you’re away, we will be picnicking on checkered blankets,
oblivious as trees. We will be searing flesh, fish and mysterious
tubed meat on smoky grills. We’ll be pitching tents and raising
flags and launching rockets from bottles. We’ll be Japanese
gardening and beer gardening and laughing righteously.
So please, enjoy your respite. No more
breathing solids into the thin cosmos, no more zero visibility. Go
away and only come back when I’m ready for you.
