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
