I feel the chill down deep into my bones, deep frost after
heavy snow, piles rising between each car, icicles dripping in the bright
sunlight, freezing again, indication of our dilemma when all we want to do is
feel warmth again, or a body to rub against the potato in the oven in the old
cold water flat, symbolic of something more than cooking food, doing what we need
to do to kill time until the potato gets cooked, though now, no longer able to
find someone to bake this potato with, to keep warm with, this chill so furious,
we need more than a groundhog to help us get to spring, here, safe indoors,
oven on, but no potato to rub against.
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