| Show Joys of Winter or r f The Coalman Doesn't l- Stop Here Anymore By Peggy Bennion First they took the car away refugees from Pas-ion us and we from Flats were forced to retreat i the shelter of the home Now they've taken coal away from and the home parlor is about the temperature of a deserted mor- other wc were sitting in the parlor me with my nose f plowing like a sunrise from the him with his nose like four roses from the bottle of the same name and he as he blows rings with his chilly in Or are the in a habit of sprouting I brushed the top layer of frost off the sofa and said what do you mother must have forgotten to defrost As we sat there under the spell of the he reached over and tenderly took my clammy purple hand in his clammy purple Ordinarily this would have tingled my but as they were the sensation reversed and sent my teeth into a syncopated St. Vitus Then he gently stroked my hair and splinters of ice tinkled to the In the midst of a stiff I felt my neck crack and the posterior lobe of my left ear chipped Kissing at this temperature is about as thrilling as kissing a dead mackeral with a cold moist As he stood up to his eyebrows and eye lashes so white with frost he looked like something from a bumper crop of He affectionately called Sue from the East Side and casually mentioned Jack London's to Build a as interesting reading |
