by Lisa Parris

Created on: January 01, 2009

The windows are hanging wide open

The fragile panes covered by ice

I loudly complain that I'm freezing

My husband says, Isn't this nice?'

I concentrate hard on the summer

On humidity, sun, and on heat

Pulling my chair toward the fireplace

While trying to thaw out my feet

When winter comes we often argue

Thermostat sparks confrontation

I whine and I nag and I grumble

Crying out, Heat deprivation!'

The Drama King makes a production

Of turning the heat down each day

Delivering a well-rehearsed lectures

Of all the bills we'll have to pay

He tells me if I need some warming

He has in mind the perfect cure'

Suggestively raising an eyebrow

My God, he is so immature

I tell him that I require warmness

For more than ten minutes a week

His masculine amorous prospects

Are looking a little bit bleak

He grins and he shamelessly offers

To increase the heat for the day

In trade for this generous offer

He asks for the standard BJ

I think about all of my options

While watching the puff of my breath

Then pick up my cast iron skillet

And bludgeon the skinflint to death.

I moved to a place where there's no snow

Content with the local disorder

A non-extradition new country

Just a bit south of the border.

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