SONIC BOOM ON ICE

Poem

In Lebanon, I used to walk on water. I would stand three feet above the Green, three feet in a glacial December, rooted to the ice below with the twin silver knives of my skates atop water pumped by the volunteer fire department onto the Green frozen one foot, then two feet, then three feet into an unwavering frigid force field of ice, the grass on the ground below being nothing but a blur. 

As I skate the blades carve the ice, my directional weaponry creates a tracing of my travels across the pseudo-pond and the sunlight stares and mirrors off the blades, and making reflections in silver and ice a glowing global positioning at 60 miles an hour. I skate up and down the Lebanon Green with perpetual percussive blade strikes scratching everything. Below them, below freezing.

 

While I skate I concentrate, focus, project, force, reinforce. There’s some BPM firing in me as I fly up and down the makeshift rink, hovercraft of icy sharpness, faster than that thick black disk whacked by the goalie in the pick-up hockey game taking place away from my velocity. I am skating faster than my blur itself; the afterimage is the only thing that melts and that runaway horse from the Lebanon Animal Hospital has got nothing on me. 

Faster than salt upon the rural roads as diamonds on blackness to cut the cold away, faster than a .22 rifle taking out a field-bound fox, faster than a nanosecond, faster than the single blink of the only Lebanon traffic light, faster than 1980 when it hits a frozen ’81.

Faster than my cognitive deficit, I skate over my lack of recall, my lack of focus, and my lack of concentration. My neuropsychology is getting smoked by icy friction and I leave it in the icy dust. Slashing skid marks of J K C will soon melt away into quasars of icy sun. My nervous system is ice skating, on water, on ice, on the rocks. I am green mile measured telekinetic, ping-ponging across my frozen two dimension reflection faster than the volunteer fire department’s 12:00 noon siren until lunchtime loses its high noon concentration and ends back at 11:15.

And as my ice skates create moving combustion three feet above the Green, I will carve away my cognitive deficit one frozen brainwave per the moment.