Different Slants

By Robert M. Katzman © March 5, 2013 

Snowbound

Sweet coffee aroma roaming across my face

Windows half steamed up

Like before and after the storm

I watch for traffic

But there’s none

 

Trees are so pretty

Each branch white above

Black below

Studies in shadow and light

I measure the snow by how high

The cushiony pile is stacked atop the bird feeder

 

 Snowflakes falling at an angle

There and moving on at the same time

Busy storm with places to go

Cars to bury

Snow angels waiting to appear

Photos taken that will remain young in a shoebox

While the angels themselves

 Age into reality

 

My radio is telling me stories

Disaster on the highways

Panicking people clearing the shelves

in Portland

in Denver

in Buffalo

While pretty snow drifts on above me

Silently in Chicago

Good news doesn’t sell ads

I guess

 

I’m meeting my wife at the train station

Atop a tall stairway

The 2:26 on the Northbound track

I don’t want Grandma to fall

Home from babysitting the little ones

 

Grandpa would miss her

If she fell

Everyone would miss her

She is the glue

She is the family

Irreplaceable

 

I’m watching the time

Waiting for her train

Time to suit up

Into all my protective gear

Layer after layer

Scarves, sweaters and boots

Trapping my heat

Pretending not to be fragile

Intent on protecting Grandma

 

I’ll make her coffee when we get back

Exactly how she likes it

Maybe we’ll watch an old movie

Snuggled together under a warm blanket

Sometimes holding hands

Gradually getting sleepy

Almost melting together

Almost like a single snowdrift

One flake indistinguishable from the other

 

Teens may think fevered passion

In a car’s back seat

Is the end all and be all

The ultimate wow!

Takes a long time to learn

That the flame gets lower

But burns steady

For a very long time

When you meet the right one

And never let her go

 

To me

Meeting Grandma

At the station

In the snowstorm

Atop the steps

To keep her safe

To keep her from falling

Being her personal Knight

Is pretty damn hot

 

I don’t tell her this

She’d say: “You old fool

Used to be a young fool…”

I just put my arm in hers

In a blizzard of flakes

The Snowman and his Lady

Walkin’ on home

 

 

About the writer and his other life in Skokie, Illinois:

I am currently seeking an agent to do more readings for hire.
Feel free to call me at the number below. 

Bob Katzman’s Magazine Museum: 100,000 periodicals back to 1576!
Wall of Rock: 50 years of cool Rock periodicals on display & for sale                                                                                                                                                      www.Oldzines.com   Zip@Oldzines.com

4906 Oakton St. (8000 north and 4900 west) Skokie, Ill 60077
(847)677-9444 Mon-Fri: 10 am to 5 pm / Weekends: 10 am to 2 pm

Katzman’s Publishing Company site: www.FightingWordsPubco.com
Katzman’s online non-fiction stories: www.DifferentSlants.com

Poetry? For me, writing poetry is not an option.
It’s a response to emotion. Like cigarette smoke,
it’s fast-flowing, shapeless and with little time to capture it.
Writing poetry in an imperative. I say what I feel compelled to say.

I sell my five published books via mail order and accept major credit cards.
I don’t use PayPal. I just talk to people on the phone.
Fast, reliable service. Read my stories and see what you think.
I’m also available for hire to read my true Chicago stories to organizations
and answer all questions. I autograph my books when I sell them.