I like my snow like I like my men
                          deep
                          untouched in photographs
                          shoveled off my porch before I have to go to work

I like my snow like I like my men
                          accumulating softly
                                                   while I sleep

I like my men like I like my snow
Plowed depends on circumstance

I like my men like I like my snow
which is to say
at the beginning of the season I remember them fondly
but the very first time they require me to do any work
I hope to never see another one of those flakes again

I like my snow like I like my men
                          in theory

I like my snow like I like my men
                          pure
                                    except where they've been
                          flattened by strangers' bootprints

I like my snow like I like my men
                          light and fluffy at first but
                          heavier and more full of grit
                          the deeper you dig

I like my men like I like my snow
                         and I'm often judged harshly by those who don't
understand my appreciation of either

I like my men like I like my snow
Do I like snow because it is in my genes or
                          because I was born in a place where winter was condoned
                                                            if not appreciated

I like I my men like I like my snow
I just don't talk about it unless I'm prompted to
                          
I like my snow like I like my men
                          In the summer when it's not a realistic threat

I don't always like snow but
I could never live somewhere lacking winter
I tried it in college
And again in my mid-twenties
                   when I was chasing the mechanical rabbit of the
                                                             normative success that
                             I was told would make me important

I don't always want to like snow but
I do always like snow
                                      even when it's inconvenient
                                      even when it keeps me from getting to work
                                      even when it means the world is too cold to brave
                                                                                            without protection

When I like men the way I like snow
                              it's exhausting to think about

I like my snow like I like my men
                          remembered fondly while I sip margaritas on a beach

I like my men like I like my snow
                         Finite but frequent

I like men like I like snow
It's easier without trying to claim ownership of either

I like snow like I like men
                    in its natural state
Artistically rendered sculpture is beautiful but not for me

I like snow like I like men
                          in photographs surrounded by more snow
                          bending trees that I know survived and continue to thrive

I like men like I like snow
                                               Oh god
                   Temporary?
                   For a few months of the year?
Why would anyone want men like snow if they really loved either?

Wait

         maybe I like snow like I like men
                                         in the way that I always want the Arctic Circle to be there
                      I could even set up permanent residence there
as long as I could vacation somewhere warmer
                                               whenever the impulse struck me

You know
it's been a while since I've lived anywhere temperate
what if I only like snow because I've spent over half my life
identifying as someone who likes snow?
Would I really miss winter if I lived on a beach?
Is it closed minded of me to assume how much
                                                                I'll miss the snow if I change my environment?

I like men like I like snow
                   On a case by case basis

I like men
                   sometimes
It's the same with snow

If I could get paid to
remember mistakes
i didn't have to
make Talk with
a room full of unknown people
made less strange by
confessions of a well
intentioned voicebox
at a drive through 
friendsteraunt I would cook
when moved to Make drinks
when it felt necessary or
joyous I would not open
my home to everyone
but to many 
interested in the books
hoarded and arranged by
passion Stories
casually plated and designed for
sharing

Most of what
i would do if i had
the perfect job is what i do now
but i would be paid more than
survival rates without having to
beg crowdsource Online
petition for validation
unearned People would come
because it was better than
solitude or even public
entertainment And sometimes it would even move
I do not need to be home
                         to be comfortable In many ways
my perfect job is every job i've ever had
assembled into the
occupation of shared
passion

Ugh enough
about passion and 
joy So unlike this 
rolled eye of comradery This
burst sniff of
unbelievable i aim at those 
whose strangeness i wish to
stay foreign I would be
content to be just
like me right now
with a bigger audience And
really all i should have to
do is apply
myself as though i were 
a grant and not for granted But
i do not submit
unless asked
nicely I do not pay
fees to achieve
the possibility of being more
widely understood

Part of my ideal
job would be to become someone
enough to provide other
people not necessarily like me
People of similar desire to be
more I would make
more Not just 
more money but more

​I would make more

Question posed by Craig Shaw Gardner