Thursday, February 02, 2012

the balls off a brass monkey

It is -8C here or worse, which is about 17F to us Americans. Cold! The gypsies are nevertheless camped out across from the train station, sitting Indian style on their mattress with a blanket around them. At least until around 11 pm when the guy in the Mercedes comes to pick them up. He brings them back before the crack of dawn.

Anyway, yeah. Cold! Well-digger's ass! Witch's tit! Cold as hell. Cold as all get-out. Eskimo's chuff! Whatever that is.

My poem "Sidewalk Rage" is up in the new Snakeskin, which is all found poems. I admit Sidewalk Rage has also found me occasionally, most often when I'm behind the dope & her friend standing side-by-side on the escalator in the train station where I am trying to catch my train.


Kathleen said...

I read the poem yesterday and loved it! Aauugghh! You are getting the cold we often get this time of year. We are having a false spring.

Ron. said...

1) Your work at Snakeskin, like everything you write, is marvelous. Conga Rats.

2) The derivation of Balls / Brass monkey is fascinating, eh?

3) Average winter temp in (very) nearby Newport Vermont: 21F.

SarahJane said...

Vermont! You guys asked for it.

Related Posts with Thumbnails