We have to wear blank black clothes to mask class so our selves don't intrude.
People with hair in their face must pin their hair off their face.
When you're wearing black and have your face
... [+]
easing on his fleece-lined boots.
We laughed and clinked our empty glasses.
"To more beer," we cheered, "to wine,"
as he hauled himself into his puffed winter coat;
my Michelin man on a mission,
hat strapped tight beneath his chin,
harpoon at the ready.
He kissed me goodbye on the doorstep,
ice already clinging
to the tips of his powdered moustache.
Shivering, I watched him go,
waving him into the whiteness,
watching as the blank landscape
swallowed him, slowly.
Later, I found the second crate of wine,
forgotten by the kitchen door
and the waiting bottles of beer
cooling in an unseen bucket.
Later, I remembered it was June,
and this was California–
no footsteps in the white, white sand
to mark his icy passing.