Black Ice

There is a snow plow
in my mind.
It follows the routes
carved out
along my cerebral cortex
catching thoughts as they fall-
pushing them off
until later.

I've asked the driver
to kindly give me peace,
but the storm keeps
getting worse.

Snow drifts back from it's piles
onto the icy road.
The truck runs out of salt
-I'm sliding

My head is a snow globe.
To shake away a thought
is to let others loose
in the whirlpool
of consistently gray matter.

It's gray outside and in.
I sip tea to keep me company
A few blankets keep me warm,
but my brain
is far from being thawed
by the fireplace.

I am stuck in a crystal palace
of fluffy imagination,
icicles,
and slush.
How do I keep my footing
watch my head,
and stay dry
in such a blizzard?

Exhale and some thoughts
leave me
-"Water vapor"
I think-
and the snow packs in tighter.

Do igloos collapse?
What is the best advice
you can give me,
for out running
an avalanche?

I know how to ski,
but I lost my courage
hearing the sound of ice
cut against
strips of fiberglass.
I imagine all types
of tragedies.

I can't even skate
if the ice
is beneath feet of snow.

The snow is up to my waist,
and past my shoulders.
It reaches over my head-
Slowly my body
succumbs to the cold.
One last,
conscious breath,
and hibernation will replenish
and restore me.