the grease of winter
Hard, fatty coconut oil melted soft and clean after a shower and now shines weirdly on the skin of knees emerging nude from my boots. In this early morning glow, gloppy shoe grease melts tenderly into abused black leather, moist from a saddle soaping, and an inky lustre begins to glisten beside my skin. Meanwhile, beneath my fingernails, the black boot grit mingles with oily brown winter bike chain filth and the sickly turquoise of phil’s grease that fills my snow rusted bearings. As the mountains of snow outside succumb to the mild sunlight of noon, I meticulously go about melting away the salt and grit of the week with oils and salves in the hopes that my bike and boots and I might survive another here on the midwestern tundra.