@#$% It’s Cold!

@#$% it’s cold!

It’s almost Christmas,

So in honor

Of the holiday,

Everything

Should be red and green,

But my fingers

And lips

Are frostbite blue.

If I hear the words

“Polar Vortex”

Escape from your

Frozen lips,

I will punch you

Right in the face.

I know Santa Claus

Is watching,

But I am too frozen

To give a @#$%.

Put me on

The Naughty List, Santa.

At least

That way,

I’ll get coal

In my stocking,

And can burn it

To warm up again.

Winter’s uncomfortable presence

Is extremely evident

In this part of the world

That the sun has forgotten.

I am beginning to think

That Maine

Is nothing more

Than the southernmost part

Of the North Pole.

At least that

Would explain

The dozens of penguins

Sunning themselves

On my frost covered

Front lawn.

@#$% it’s cold!

I farted earlier,

And ended up

With ice cubes

In my boxers.

I do not welcome

The New Ice Age

With open arms,

And that’s

Not simply

Because

I’m wearing

So many layers

That I can’t

Lift my arms

To offer

An embrace.

I haven’t dealt

With a situation

This cold

Since the final months

Of my marriage.

I was hoping

That writing

Would light

A fire

To warm my soul.

Then I remembered,

I sold my soul

For 2oo gallons

Of heating oil

That, sadly,

Is now long gone.

@#$% it’s cold.

I think

I’ll go yell

At those

Trespassing penguins.

Maybe

Some cursing

Will get

My blood boiling

And warm me

The @#$% up…

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