every day is a snow day 

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February 8, 2001

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 at the corner

red powerfully expresses individuality

 of bowdoin and evanston

housepainters get drunk playing the weather odds like kids who neglect their homework on nights when snow is predicted. i remember waking up and rushing to the window, disappointed to see only a dusting w/ tire tracks of cars and schoolbuses exposing asphalt in black ribbons below and it was time again for me to fake being sick, another long day of tv and mad magazine. i was absent often in 9th grade, sometimes for no other reason than i asked for it. my mother let me because she was lonely. yesterday morning puddles were iced over in gutters (a rare thing in seattle) and last night there were rumors of snow. i'd kept up with sarah's beering at arne's dutch ned's poetry reading and we wake up rather late, 9:38, with lulu sitting up on the bed watching something we can't see in the yard behind our heads--but it's not the man on the ladder who hovered in our windows on tuesday scraping flaking paint to prep a new blue skin for this old house, a floor of which we rent. his gamble paid off and i hope he's home somewhere, nursing his head and rolling over, enjoying the rain.