Bite-sized hail.
Ice that falls from the sky in a size suitable to chew
But Mick Jagger and I would disagree
on the size of ice we each might choose.
Wouldn’t we?
What the weatherman said was
“bite-sized hail.”
It was 6:35 in the evening,
when he chose those words.
“Lunch” was convenience store peanuts at noon
at 1 he visited the break-room fridge
from 2 to 6 he nursed a full liter of Diet Dr. Pepper
which he liked less than the Diet Sprite gone awol
(no one gives a damn about propriety in here)
but which he preferred to the multiple liters of Fanta
(who the hell stocks this damn thing?)
At 6:30 he put the final touches on his super-doppler graphic
with the care and precision of a neuro-surgeon
clicks and drags and drops
eyes dried from hours of following the storm in real-time
and planning the perfect arrangement of words
to impress upon his adoring public
over 233,000 people
the severity
of what he was seeing
of what they were expecting
him
to report.
at 6:32:31 he was already rolling the script in his head
And at the convergence of these two fronts
at 6:32:37 the weatherman went live
At 6:34 his stomach grumbled though he didn’t hear it
Diet Dr. Pepper sloshed in his bowels as he dipped his arms
gracefully against the green screen
in perfect unison with the
barbed smile of the animated cold front
you would have seen on your screeen
at your home.
he used phrases like “in the event of” and “seek shelter”
decisive gestures as crisp as his starched shirt
confidence disguising choreography
his suit jacket lifted with the implied drama of the tornado watch
which he was secretly certain would upgrade to a warning in mere minutes
“And at the convergence of these two fronts”
we could see wind gusts up to 40 miles per hour
his tie lept and his face conveyed concern
for his unlucky audience
in houses without basements or trapped in trailer parks
“we could see wind gusts up to 40 miles per hour”
which may be accompanied by likely, sizeable hail
but he suddenly felt less concerned for his viewership
in townhomes and mobile living quarters and duplexes
because, honestly, they probably had jobs where lunch-breaks were
permissable
their sustenance was considered important enough to
cordon off a full hour or more
solely for the purpose of eating
chicken nuggets
or macaroni and cheese
things they could buy with coupons and microwave on their meager salaries
or steak-ums
or fish sticks
or cheez-its
or tater-tots
food as fuel for another night-shift making minimum wage,
sweeping floors, scrubbing urinals,
menial WalMart tasks
which will make possible the next bag of frozen corn dogs
which will make their small lives worth living
“which may be accompanied by”
what the weatherman said was
“bite-sized hail”
but what the weatherman meant was far different.
Bad Jeans and Bangs 