2024 Snow Globe with Orange Headband

 

 

 

Snow Globe with Orange Headband

By Chris Clemens

 

Sometime around Valentine’s Day we ambled down Yonge Street, our boots neatly crunching the newly-fallen snow, our footsteps stretched as if we had no time to wait for shovel or salt in our urgent aimless route through side alleys, and as fat flakes tumbled around us and cars churned through the white-dusted slush and we drank from your unlabeled bottle it became clear we were at the very centre of the snow globe, and therefore it only seemed right that our gloved fingers intertwined while a hideous fluorescent bazaar retailed plush turtle earmuffs that were perhaps photogenic but nonetheless incited obnoxious public argument about preferred ninjas / colours – Donatello was the best, with the longest weapon reach – and we were almost back to your apartment on Wellesley when you swept me off my feet beside the snow-piled path, our arms and legs flapping, crafting angels for those walking to work next morning to wonder at: our deformed impressions, you lying on top of me cushioned in all your layers, plus the ones I didn’t even know about yet, pushing handfuls of cold, wet snow down into my jacket, yanking the earmuffs off to yell MICHAELANGELO MICHAELANGELO IT WAS ALWAYS MICHAELANGELO.