The Last Ice Age

During the last ice age, everything seemed

possible. It was a fine time, flexible for

me, far from home, shivering enough at first

for two.  Then you.  How the water

lapped our bodies numb, lost

our feet, our hands. To touch

was to guess at feeling, faintly sensing

some bumping between us. By the end

of the last ice age, we no longer felt

our bodies anymore, and our teeth chattered so

loudly we couldn’t hear each other over

the ice cracking hard in the cold world

around us.  With brain freeze setting in,

our lips flapped about like Novocain.

Remember how I lost my teeth,

the wisdom ones, all four at once,

then coming to from general anesthetic

even though I’d signed the waiver indicating

I realized I might never wake up, and if so,

I wouldn’t hold anyone responsible,

meaning that if I’d died during our procedure,

I would end up one of those un-suing

figures in the past, tense, encased in ice, alone,

to be exhumed by some future scientific expedition

searching for remains of singular people like me,

from the last ice age, and they would see my shadow

outlined vaguely below, use Thermite bombs

to free me from my frozen tomb, a creature

who’d died nearly completely in the last ice age,

but still had life enough, once freed up,

to come back home to the tropics and thaw out.

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