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Barefoot on Thin Ice


The alternator belt
She wasn't walking straight
In the snow.
Bottle of wine,
But I was there to hold her up.
Almost.
She was that little girl again,
But the mom with the Minnesota haircut
Was horrified.
We stuck out our tongues,
Laughed to the death,
And warmed the snowbank with our butts.
This was our release.
We didn't need to do the sex thing.
The primal hug was the place to be.
The room had a refrigerator
And a hot tub
And a VCR
And an alarm clock,
But we were not alarmed.
She kissed me on the forehead
And walked barefoot to the porch
For a smoke.
Three deer, the holiest of trilogies.
The guns of Chicago
Were silenced by the wisdom of nature.
She was at peace.
I got up eventually.
The peace had elapsed
With her reading of the book.
Busted for the experiment.
Hell hath no fury like the wrath of a jealous woman?
Understatement incarnate.
We were away from the woods,
Out of my league.
The deer were laughing,
So I turned the key.
Time for our venture back to reality,
Time for a cold ride.
I had to teach
So the car died.
The ol' alternator belt.
This was great comfort
 
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