Layers
There's something to be said
For this Yankee winter cold.
Well,
Many things.
The thrill it adds to your breath,
The freezing shock up your legs
Having gone two steps too far
Into a deceptively solid snow bank.
But the something I refer to,
The one I had in mind:
Layers.
Let me walk you through
My morning pattern.
Rolling out of bed,
Scampering bowlegged into
The shower,
In nothing but my slippers
And my silly man-bits!
From there,
Pulling on paper thin shorts,
Wrapping my legs
In fifty shades of denim,
Wriggling into a scrap of colored cotton
That kisses up against my skin,
Give the gaps between my buttons
Some flare!
Ideally, then,
The button down,
My indoor defense,
The sacred robes
Of office work.
Next,
I buckle on my final armor,
My plate mail Land's End coat,
Enchanted by the wizards
Of Velcro
And Insulation!
Now I'm a warm and sweating bulwark,
But I've still armor yet!
Thick knit mittens,
Leather boots
Laced three inches past my ankles,
Scraps of scarves left over from last year,
Tucked around my collarbone,
Hiding my throat from the howling wind,
Skull cap saved for centuries
By sages long gone blind,
And finally,
The Great Hood,
Savior of Ears,
Blocker of Periphery.
So there I am,
A cloth covered paladin,
Armored against the wind and sleet and snow,
Locked in tight by zippers, buttons, straps,
Layered up against the world.
Explains to me a lot about this city living.
Quick walks to outrun the cold,
Eyes downcast for fear of wind,
Smiles hidden in pain from chapped lips,
People shielded from the winter,
And shielded from each other.
But what a fun game,
When we catch some smiling eyes
And get to undress each other!
Laughing at the mountains we don for cover,
Sighing as we try each other on!
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