Let it Snow

Last month it snowed over a foot. Parking lots turned perfect little white hills and valleys. I traveled through labyrinth tunnels, levitating 6 inches above the winding roads on clouds of compacted snowflakes. The world was silent for a moment, and you were here. I let myself close my eyes and take a deep breath.
Too soon, it melted.
Now I'm here, left with a few dirty chunks of stubborn ice...and bits of garbage-beer cans, cigarette butts, plastic.
Salt sticks to everything after it's no longer needed, and refuse hidden in dark piles still stinks up the place when revealed.
I alternate ignoring it as I walk past and sitting there, staring at it, wishing it was gone already, and I didn't have to roll up my sleeves and deal with this mess.
Somebody hand me a shovel.