Tuesday, June 9, 2009


what they were doing
it didn’t make much sense to me
these old men
standing around
in their old bodies
a shovel in their old hands
they’d raise it up slowly
and let it drop
breaking apart ice
large banks of ice
that had been growing all winter long
they were breaking the ice
then stomping on it
to make it melt faster
in the 41 degree weather
it seemed a strange thing to do
to fight nature
to go against such a beast
but then I realized
what they were really doing
they were getting their revenge
the ice banks themselves didn’t matter
they would most likely linger
another month or two
but they wanted their revenge
the wanted to feel the destruction
of the ice banks
beneath the wait of their shovels
their weapons
against the harsh
New Hampshire winters
I walked over to one of the geezers
reached out my hand and said,
“give me that. It’s my turn.”
I began to smash apart the ice
and the old man began to step on it
when there was plenty to step on
I joined him
crushing the ice into watery nothingness
it was our little jig
that we danced
and for the first time in five cold months
we felt like men again

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