My heavy, cold limbs and fingers are bent with work and hurt. Tossing a cracked shovel into a mound of snow, I moved past the dogs sniffing and licking at water in my clothes that had turned frigid with wind.

With runny eyes I probed the ground forgotten below piles of old snow torn with ruts -- my jagged path. Moving toward home I pictured booze bottles under bar lights tossing angels bound in amber and maroon shafts. They paint dripping trails across knotted honey pine.

At the bar B. asked me, so, you like wine in the box?

Yup.

Why?

Because, when I fall asleep on my bar stool and bump it over, it won't break.

Oh. You are my hero, he said. Drinkers love drunken fools -- I was and will be…

As I pry a cork from the bar's house Cabernet I think of Lily. Again I imagine what life will be like with dogs reined in and behaved. I imagine the hill I'll climb wearing roller skates through sand to get there. Passing by J. in the bar's kitchen I say, ya know, I have a theme today, Oh Please, Just Shoot Me.

By the way, a Bunny hopped into my blog recently. Any takers?