i remember in an a-frame on gabriola island it was so cold inside a guy had to put his hands in his pants to play his guitar. it's so cold my head feels squeezed in a vice, ha, i mean vise, i looked it up. even my eyes feel cold. they cry ice tears. so cold i had to put my hands in my thermal underwear to warm my johnson. maybe we'll get an a-frame in michigan. put a sleeping loft at the tippy-top with moon roof and a double soft mesh hammock and swing high in the apex of our winter lives.
i was glad for a short walk with an old dog. when we turn the corner toward home i can hear his mind sing hosannas.  
r. says it's not in michigan it's in indiana, the future a-frame.