Current Issue: Reconciliation
2010-2011
Bemidji Shtick
Sean Hill
Here where after the sand truck’s first pass, morning traffic churns snow and sand to
what I convince myself is marzipan to make being here somewhat less bitter, I mean
cold. On the sidewalk a banana peel—the start of a cartoon slapstick bit anywhere else,
well, I suppose only in a cartoon, Elmer or Tom sliding to a cymbal crashing crescendo,
Bugs or Jerry laughing at the clatter, inciting us to laughter. But here in this winter I
laugh because I don’t know whom the laugh’s on, because this peel crunches underfoot
as brittle as the canned laughter that always follows those spring-loaded snakes
erupting from the can of mixed nuts on all of those television shows I can’t quite recall.
Knock, knock. What’s that? The sound of me slipping on ice and falling to the ground.