Some measure of fluid bygones

Erased by chalk dust the memnonic thought

Is not a pathway a gateway drug

To the rest home blizzard 

More like a snowplough opening the road

Salt rusts the car 

And the underbelly decays

You scrape ice from the windows 

And slide into a snow Bank 

But it's open for business 

on Xmas eve

And you tell the snowman teller to put 

The money in the bag

His rock eyes stare

And his carrot nose is well preserved

He says nothing

Later you decide to make a snow angel