upstairs is warm

j says "you don't have to shake my hand"

c says "ok"

j says "unless you just want to"

c says "it's a good american tradition"

they shake hands; the Christian, the atheist

downstairs the band plays

the microphone squealing, the beer drinking, the cigarette smoking

the snow whipping around the old machine shop

now carries shapes of revelry

in a town of blizzard-faced young people

in skinny jeans, hiking boots