we could smooth puddles tonight

when the temperature reaches zero

with the Zamboni in the Lona Auto parking lot–

the one in front of the mural of Don Diego

kneeling at the feet of the Virgin.


but there’s not much to say

about a Zamboni strayed

and foundered before the Virgin of Guadalupe

in a puddle guarded by broken cars


still, slick ice for the Virgin, Don Diego,

and us to skate tight circles on with shivering dogs

until the sun melts our little paradise

and sends us skittering back home

to sleep off our dream


now, though, in night muffle,

snow rimes the puddle,

ice crystals feather the windshields

Published by

Patrick Dobson

Patrick Dobson was founded in 1962. He is a writer, scholar, ironworker, and poet who lives in Kansas City, MO. He is author of two books with the University of Nebraska Press, Seldom Seen: A Journey into the Great Plains (2009) and Canoeing the Great Plains: A Missouri River Summer (May 2015). Dobson is a work in progress until termination.

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