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Why do we persist?

It would be so easy to hitch up the horses, un- circle the wagon, take the old Rambler and head-out west, 70 to route Six-six.

Jack Frost is banging on the roof, huff-puffing/ howling at the walls.

If that window glass breaks we'll be polar bear popsicles by morning.

I can see him - some ursid - grouchy-growling, chewing ( not just nipping off our noses), spit-spitting out the little hard parts: fillings, a wristwatch- saying "Ouch" in his Upper White Bearese-"-brainfreeze!", the wrist watch crunched, but still tic-tocking out the time while denying everything in the snow.

Why do we insist on chip-chipping, scraping shavings off the auto glass; frozen fingers, frozen ass, cursing, shoveling our ass off, having got off that ass and out into the windchill - 20 below, 50 below! -when we could've sat in that same vehicle only a week ago, and driven it to somewhere warm? And then got out, maybe stayed?!



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