Let’s go glis­sad­ing down ice cubes,
we’ll take our boots down paths un­trekked
and on zi­plocs you’ll see I’ve carved a yeti
nes­tled be­tween car­rots and peas.

Let’s go kick­ing and glid­ing
on the freezer-burnt fields,
sense­lessly tum­bling off ice tray-moguls
into eti­o­lated straw­berry sor­bet.

Let’s go build a fire, melt a river
of lemon­ade con­cen­trate.
Take this rapid slow, but even if we tip,
our sour fate won’t ruin us.