Of Cold and Dogs

I broke my cold-weather-commuting low-temp record today with a ride in 9 degrees.

I’d been worried about appendage separation due to the frigid air, but the absence of natural wind very much diminished the expected harsh brutality of the ride, and my fingers and toes didn’t even really feel cold until near the end of my ride.

Plus, I’d been assured by my dear wife. “Don’t worry,” she told me before I set out. “You’re very attached to your [appendages].”

One of the great jokes from A Prairie Home Companion this past weekend: A female brain molecule wandered into a man’s head. Finding it empty of other brain molecules, she called out, “Hello? Hello?” From far away she heard a response: “We’re all down here!”

In my feet, of course. On the way home this afternoon, a pesky dog gained a certitude of wisdom, and I’ve written this poem about the experience:

I have kicked in the side of the head
the dog
that once chased you as
you jogged

and at which
you were incredibly
peeved
for so long

Congratulate me
the kick was delicious
so instinctively
executed

But this is not to say
my toe didn’t hurt
for a while

Or to say I didn’t look in
my handlebars mirror
a lot

just waiting
for the dog’s owner to come after me
in a car

with who knows what

(Thanks, William Carlos Williams for the inspiration.)