Winter lament: Mister Snowplowman


Hey Mister Snowplowman, why did you destroy my mailbox?

It was a perfect morning until you came along. A day off from work, sitting around in warm fleeces, reading good books and drinking cappuccino.

The snow was beautiful as it softly fell. But then you came along, Mister Snowplowman. You mixed those gentle flakes with gravel, salt and sand, then vomited them forth in a violent, icy spew.

My mailbox stood so proudly — center sentinel in a line of three. Why did you frag just my mailbox, Mister Snowplowman? Why did you bend it cruelly? Why did you kill the prettiest of the three?

Now I must buy a new mailbox. Now I must haul out my tools in the middle of winter. Thanks to you, Mister Snowplowman, the neighbors will laugh when they see me screwing in the street.

I’d send a letter, if only I could, and I’d keep it short and sweet: “Fuck you, Mister Snowplowman!”


Add yours →

  1. I hear you. Last year they took out most of the grass in my parking.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sorry to hear it. Maybe the plowman took out some gnomes, too, while he was mangling his way down your street. Meanwhile, down here in God’s Country, it’s 77 degrees and sunny.

    Liked by 1 person

    • You need to come up here, boy, and let me teach you how to shovel!


      • Thanks for your kind offer, but when/if we do wander up that way, it will be in the spring, summer or fall. I prefer to spend my “winter” days driving around with the top down or sitting on the back porch with a cool, refreshing beverage while admiring our gnome-free (not to mention snow-free) back yard.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I think you should send a letter to the city, asking them to replace it. Tax dollars, indeed. I would leave out your first draft, however 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Never hurts to ask/bark. All they can say is no. But they might say yes 🙂 woof!

    Liked by 1 person

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