Snow, a thaw, then refreezing
make the sidewalk a strip
of polished ice and the day
a good day for hot chocolate,
but we, sick of being snowbound,
dislodge ourselves to conquer
the North Face of Main Street
before edging our way back
to our base camp, the couch
where you’re invited to join us
as we warm ourselves
with images of children at play
on the turret of a tank and women
in designer shades and chadors
pumping their fists, demanding their
Tahrir and demanding it now.
This article appears in September 2011.
