Six inches of fresh powder. A pair of squirrels wrestle in it, then go up the big maple, couple on the trunk, and retreat to separate limbs.


  1. Letter to Spam

    Can you keep a secret? They will never know. In my e-mailbox at work this morning, this message: When wearing one of Practically Genuine’s clones, you won’t have to worry about being caught. How? We manufacture all our products (from the inside/out). Using the same metals, markings, materials as the originals ensures the perfect clone. In 1936 the pantywaist was a type of child’s garment with short pants that buttoned to the waist of the shirt. In Old English, a stole is a long robe, a scarf-like garment. Clergymen wore it. Frankly, I much prefer the sixteenth century use of doublet (root, Fr. duble) as “one of two things that are alike”. Keep this quiet and your friends, family, co-workers, and loved ones will never know the difference. Six inches of fresh powder. A pair of squirrels will wrestle in it, then go up the big maple, couple on the trunk, retreat to separate limbs. All those little gropings in the shadows. Do you need a translator? Think of it. History is full of copies, some of them cutting themselves out of the landscape right now.

    ~ Luisa A. Igloria
    02 22 2011

    1. A LESSON

      Plot a scenario where it could occur:
      six inches of newly-fallen snow
      is as good as a sunset on the bay.
      Lie down on it, make snow angels,
      steal a Facebook picture of her
      stretched in mock-sultry splendour,
      then tumble where she trashes
      to make her angel’s wings, laugh,
      let her scream her wildest trill
      then plant an errant kiss. She will
      push, you will pull. Do not cease
      from childlike giggling. Roll over,
      wrestle like the pair of squirrels
      you pointed out to her under that
      bare maple. If she struggles, wait.
      Wait for her to lie still with her
      weakened guffaw, lock her into
      your arms to gather warmth,
      “To keep you warm”, you protest.
      She is ready, if you are.

      But that was when you saw
      the quondam pair of rodents
      in frenzied coupling on a swinging
      branch, and she let out a stifled
      scream. The pair on the maple trunk
      scampered, retreated to separate
      limbs, paused, stared, and left
      off where they were rudely
      interrupted. First lesson learned.

      The next lesson, therefore, should be
      on separation.

      —Albert B. Casuga

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