Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor…
Wait, no, that’s shit I say: It was near Memorial Day!
But the sky crapped out more snowfall — snowfall for the fucked Havre.
For the small and redneck village that the natives call Havre — Unknown here for evermore.
Open here I flung the curtain, and, just to see it all for certain,
Stared down that pure-white snowfall of the wintery months of yore;
Not the least springy was it, not a second stopped or slowed it,
But, with white like incandescence, blocked my view outside my door —
Blocked my view, and made me sore.
Then, methought the snow grew denser, falling on us hence and hencer,
Shat by seraphim whose white shit crusted all around my door.
“Shit!” I cried “Fuck and goddamn thee — what is this damn snow that I see
Falling — Falling and encrusting 'round my unpaved roads and my door;
Damn, oh damn this snowiness and go from this fucked Havre!”
Quoth the Forecast, “Snow Some More!”
And the snowfall, not yet melted, still is drifted, still is drifted,
Making pallid roads and pathways just outside my hovel’s door;
And this shit will, when melty, make the roads and footpaths muddy…
Muddy, Hell! They’ll all be gumbo, so your traction is no more.
And my shoes, unless I’m careful, will track it in on the floor,
And I’ll have to… clean some more!