Waiting and Freezing
Minus twenty or lower out here tonight. Pull my hands out of my mitts for a minute to snap a few shots of the trailing car lights. It’s one of my favorite night time activities – taking long-exposure night shots of cars traversing the high level. My hands freeze in less than ten seconds out here. A few quick shots, hands back in, hands out, a few shots more. Love how the lights look and how the tires grind the snow paste. It’s a never ending stream for the north side. The rusty caddies, the silver blue people scows coated shoe-to-lid with dirt, the neo-hemi Dodge one-tons, the greasy tool vans, the daily drivers and Saturday cruisers, the bass throb Cavaliers, the mufflerless noise machines, the breadboxes on wheels, the peeling Escorts. Eventually, every shape and form of automobile crosses this pig. I wish I had a frame for each one. Dammit it’s late and I should be getting in. Hands ringing and freezing, thumbs nearly falling off. Take a few notes and head back, toque drawn, fleece liner zipped to neck. Wind rips through the girders and into my face. January, you wench. Blacker than an I-beam your heart is.