Slushy

You can hear the boats go by.

Sailboats (1864-1866), Claude Monet

I feel good today, I feel right, I can eat the shallow ice on the gravel driveway, crunch it between my teeth, rocks and ice, like an extra crunchy slushy. “Extra crunchy, please,” I tell the slushy man, and he hands me a snowdrift in a triangular paper cup, white slush with tiny gray nuggets that taste like skinned kn…