Half foot, foot, foot and a half, two, heh; blow it across the roads and then we got hell, three or four inches of pure frozen damnation. Fender wells, wheel rims be damned, through the white whale we plow, oh, how cheerfully we consign ourselves to perdition. Overtime enough to send us into the void, snow at sixty miles an hour and me at the same, where was that blue truck ahead of me?
When the wind hits and all you have are four wheels on ice, you count your blessings and figure up your karma, project the trajectory, hope for the best. Sliding wherever forces one into immediate and complete surrender, the here and now given full throttle then diced up like onions before an omelet. Reality ratcheted backwards, past the “oops!” then thrust like a bottle-rocket to bang around in the dark, into a pole and flat against the “holy fucking shit.”
Yesterday, huddled and warm with my kids; today, heading for a ditch in the service of the man. Then, I wanted to be them and now, it sucks to be you. Can’t get your shit to work? Well, let me tell you about my day, you whiny hunk of snot. Yeah, you’re not talking to a machine or an Indian, whoop-dee-doo, neither of them will fuck with your head and this is your last time to listen and do what I tell you otherwise I’ll have to transfer you to someone who has training dealing with retards.