musings on snow

I love how snow makes everything outside automatically poetic

I love how the snow parachutes down like some major mini-invasion by the maker of Pixie Sticks

I love how the footprints make the sidewalks in Astoria look like one huge murder-mystery novel

I love the coldness of snow. And how the air bites with coldness and your breath exhales as if you were smoking an invisible cigarette


I love how seeing my breath is almost like an out of body experience. Or at least proof that at that moment, you exist


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When i was younger I tried to make a sexy snow women by giving my snowman breasts and trying to sculpt the body. Yet it ended up looking like George Washington instead.

I love how I was so jealous of my younger brother's absolute love of his stuffed animal Piglet of Winnie the Pooh fame, that I buried Piglet in the snow for a day or two so my brother would focus on me.

I remember when I was younger how I thought the snow looked like cocaine, and that if the snow actually was cocaine we would all be cokeheads.