July 2005 / Volume Six / Issue Four
Keith Wood

Holdovers from the last snow
are heaped in parking lots
like filthy black ice mountains,
bulldozed and plowed out of the way
by hungover road crew guys
with children and wives
who never see them
this time of year.

Spring is a cruel joke
in Philly.

Even the city kids won't go near
this "snow gone bad",
which has become hard and jagged
with road salt,
automobile oil,
and asphalt grime.

The March sun does its best
but very little melts.

It's an endurance contest.

Philly is just as hard,
just as nasty.

Even as the days begin to warm
the buildings gleam mean
and vicious
in the center of the city,
much like the black ice mountains,
not giving a fucking inch.
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