knee deep in
this snow, this snow
turned
sour and grey,
a salted sludge of misery.
i can hear
the tires spin a mile
away, smell
the rubbery smoke
in the air as tires
churn against
one foot of crumbling
concrete.
a kid throws a snowball
at me
as i scrape my window.
i catch it with
one hand, grab
more wet snow to pack
it solid, then
throw it back,
knocking him over
as hits his forehead.
he doesn't know
who he's dealing with.
i am the king
of snowballs.
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