snowball fight

this evening
is a sullied mess of slush
and people falling all over themselves

a first snowfall only looks good in pictures

i am tired of the work day
seven hours of screaming children
seven hours of adults whining over scandal rags

and my right foot has a gallon
of ice cold water swirling around in it

they are having a snowball fight
in front of the chinese restaurant
that hangs dead roasted ducks in their window
like a culinary harbinger of doom

two girls hurling snowballs
and giggling like idiots in the sundown shiver

i recognize them from only hours earlier
and do my best to skirt past them

when
a snowball gets me right on the my cheek
right in my left eye

but oh the way their giggles cease
when i spin and turn on them

flick snow off my rose-bloomed face

hiss and call the one girl holding a fresh snowball
a fucking moron

before turning and hobbling down the block
like an old man cast in streetlight silhouettes

forgetting that life back on childhood streets
fighting for my pride in snowdrifts

a contrast in time and chance
as the girls' revelry kicks up anew.