I wrote this poem during that other bad winter, when the City of Spokane pushed all the snow into the center lanes of the arterials, and you couldn’t change lanes downtown except at intersections. It made for interesting driving, for sure. The snow piles in parking lots began to dwarf the buildings. The photograph I have from this year doesn’t do it justice, but you can start to imagine icebergs on the parking lot sea. During that bad winter building roofs were collapsing from the weight of four feet of snow. We aren’t there yet this year, but the winter is still young.
That Winter Icebergs in parking lots— imagine them tipping over top-heavy between waves of rudderless cars at the mega-mall. That was the beginning of something long: one long worry.
Michelle Eames 