Snowbanks weeping mottled
rivers on streets. Here is my father
at Jay Gee’s buying a half gallon
no-sugar-
added pistachio. My daughter orders
mint chocolate chip, my most
favorite from childhood
my son, cookie dough,
my second favorite.
My father is wearing a t-shirt 

from a masonry
company in Andover, a company
I’ve never heard of.
It’s always this way—

not exactly always—
it’s been only three years
since he died. These crocus men with
ten-dollar haircuts
generous girths, sweat-

pants, scuffed sneaks, salt n pepper moustaches
vague mistrust in their eyes
they crop up all over
             beaming just above what
had seemed
an impenetrable crust.

S.C. Thibodeau lives in Massachusetts. His work has appeared in The Sandy River Review, Super Arrow, and Transcend.