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