Her Calves

I'm back in my bourgeoisie rented home here in the I.C., after a thousand+ mile journey to the Great North Woods with my family and dog (who is family). And five minutes ago Ma Mayor showed up on my doorstep, wielding an "official warning" that, if I don't removed the 4" of ice from my sidewalk out front within 24 hours, they'd slap a $50 fine on me "so quick it's not even funny." And so I said, "word," grabbed a bucket of salt and commenced to salting and chipping, hacking and cursing for the next two hours. "Eff this," I decided, emptying out the last of the toxic ice, "I'm going inside and listen to the new Dylan." Outside, the salt worked its mojo while ice calves sauntered down into the drainage ditch to the click-click of Ma Mayor's boot heels.