Dave Bonta's three-line poem is a single sentence, a quick snapshot of a place worn down. The title tells us we're in an old mill town, and the phrase "run-down with drink" works two ways. The town looks shabby, and it also seems to be worn out by drinking, as if the place itself were a drunk. The poem doesn't say who is drinking or why, which leaves the idea hanging over the whole town.
The last line gives us the one concrete image: someone "ashing the ice." Judging by the wording, this is a person tapping cigarette ash onto an icy surface, or perhaps the ash and ice are simply part of the winter scene. Either way, the gesture is small, idle and careless. Grey ash on pale ice is bleak and colorless.
The speaker never states a feeling, but the mood is cold, weary and resigned. There is no anger here, only a quiet, watchful sadness and the sense of a place where little changes.