there is frost where vegetation should be

knees spring back-forth & onward we plunge—up! up! up!

no more pontificating wildly in our steins

no more licking happiness from our thenar webspace

no more accidental opiates nor 3 a.m. tercets

no more confusing bated with baited breaths

we’ve passed the test collected our savings &— dammit

we’re going to be beautiful boys someday

we sled through our summer wish-hope-praying

for grass slick as ice—but there is frost where vegetation should be

& it is still January & that space between my thumb & index finger

drips for you

I’ve spent so much bodily fluid

with my head knocking against a vending machine

& a conspiracy is only a theory until you prove it

help me prove it

help me toboggan upward like walleye

help me remember surf wax & roof racks

& Scotch tape & thumbtacks & boy howdy—

doesn’t a scotch sound good right now?

help me lift this glass to my spout

close your eyes listen to that ice clink

there’s nothing like that, I tell you

save a perfect luge to the top of a hill in July