my father & i buy ice

i was twelve &
in the heat of
july my father drove
me up the street
in his senile blue
jeep to go
buy ice at the 
kutztown bottling
works--
i craved the
walk-in freezer--
day-dreamed of
her wideness--
her rows of
straight white
teeth--
the beer store
worker with his
stubble & loose
grey t-shirt
would take the first
key from his key ring
to unlatch
the door-- 
cold breath 
emanating-- tundra
thumbed-- polar
bear promises
echoed
across my prickled
goose bump skin--
my father would
send me inside--
the scout--
i proceeded on
horse back
into the wasteland
of bagged ice--
set to return
to sweaty-palmed 
summer reverberating
off the pavement--
to my father's 
tin foil
car with hot
seats & broken
rear view mirrors--
there i
meandered deeper
i imagined
staying in the 
freezer-- pushing the 
door shut &
living among to
haphazard mountains
of artificial
ice & i thought
of all the miracles
of stillness
& how maybe with
the door shut i could
finally stop time 
long enough to
think-- i was twelve
& my stomach
was round with
cinnamon raisin
bagels & i was scared
of my skin & 
becoming a middle-
schooler & having
to fall in love
soon-- i was
scared of how quickly
midnights
gave themselves away
& whether or
not the ice would
melt
before we got home
& if i would
melt along with it--
the first time we visited
the walk-in freezer my
father shut the door
to show how 
there was a safety 
lock--
to prove that if
the door ever
shut behind
us that we wouldn't freeze
to death--
i wished life
had more
safety locks &
more walk in
freezers where time
could go & lay itself
down in bags-- 
fabricated mountains--
i grabbed a handful 
of ice & chewed--
taking the freezer into
my body-- giving
up all claims i
had to time--
this was of course
before i met you 
& much much before
i met myself
but i understand her--
coveting the coldness--
her father calling from
the other side
of the thick shut door
& her wondering
if there was anywhere 
to hide so that
she could stay longer--
she wanted to
take apart her
bones & her fat &
lay there as a 
bag of
ice-- unable 
to dissolve
in the graceless
heat of the sun
scolding her from
above-- skin
tinged red--
headache a jingle of
the key ring
& the door
swung open again--
my father walked inside 
& took me by the hand--
i lied &
said the safety 
latch was stuck 
& he slung a sack
of ice over his shoulder--
the cold persisted
through
my body the 
whole drive home 
& i sat on our porch--
sensing my
bones returning 
from ice--
& this was before
you knew me 
but if you happen
upon a walk in
freezer 
step
inside for me-- 
feel time resign--
your blood turn
to black ice 
in the drive way
you can have
my brown brown
eyes & my
goose-bump gravel
skin--
next time
my father won't
be there to open
the door--
& summer won't 
wait with eager
insults
& i will sculpture
myself 
still