•where do you live? Minnesota. Oh isn’t it cold up there? Yes. Very. Every year a certain amount freeze to death out in or winters. Every year a corpse in found, blood frozen in its veins.
•you hear about Minnesota nice. It covers up the Minnesota sad, Minnesota angry, Minnesota hurt that comes with the dark and cold we have every year. Seasonal depression.
•land of ten thousand lakes, murky water, kids are taught at a young age to swim. Diving into chilled water the caress of weeds against your leg as you touch the muddy clay bottom, inky movement out of the corner of your eye shoots you to the surface. It’s always better deeper where the weeds don’t tickle your legs. That’s where they can look up at you, watching your shape reflect against the surface.
•the shore of Lake Superior, deep, dark, dangerous. The “beaches” are unforgiving. The waters icy. Fining the perfect stones on the shore, rolled smooth. Stand on a large Boulder and drop with a plunk.
•the north was lively, people were proud to call it home. When the mining slipped away so did the pride and the people. Ghost towns blemish the land like scars on the face of a giant. We’ve pitted parts of our wart in search for something precious. Always digging.
•stay still enough in a forest during winter you’re suddenly hyper sensitive to the world around you and you realize though it seems dormant it is very much alive. Frozen breath hangs in the air, an animal calls wildly with effort in the distance.