Black Ice

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    The sidewalk is a white ice-
box cake made like a bruise.

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    Yellow sun glints on the pavement,
a black slick of spilled grease.

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    The verge a hoarfrost
forest, browns bound in blues.

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    It’s easier now to keep your feet
than it is to keep the peace.

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Time to salt where we walk, use
    every tool offered to fight the freeze.

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— George Murray

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Grain of Salt