Snow Board

I found an old waterski in my garage, and I use it as a snowboard when I can. I know it's not the same as a snowboard, but I don't give a shit because I hate winter sports. So I took the board to a park where hills and trails become one. I hoped for some movement—some speed—after all, I had fun the last time I used it.
But it sucked. I went nowhere. I couldn't even move downhill.
That was some freaky snow. I felt cheated.
I hate winter sports anyway.

The next week Beth and I were walking through the same park. This time the snow was melting and it was sloshy fun, but treacherous footing kept me on guard. When we came to a big, icy hill, I easy-stepped it so that I wouldn't tumble my way to some serious fractures. Funny thing though. Beth says to me, "Just move like you're snowboarding." I said, "that would be good advice if I didn't suck at snowboarding."

Boots crunched
snow fingers ached
under the wrath of rope that was too short
The Snow was a mischievous pixie or maybe a surly retiree
Who knew that water could create such friction
I’m angry with the snow
it owes me one
probably more

Water friction
Frozen nostril
Snow crunch
Selfish sun
Succulent naptime
Fruit of lusty love