Sunday, December 18, 2016


Each year, the dilemma.
Put up the tree?
Leave it in the garage?
I am alone; what’s the point?
So much effort
to drag it into the house.

Fake greenery that stinks.
Plastic rot.
A Christmas corpse.

In three parts;
Each with lights.
Plugs never match, so tree parts are dark,
leaving me to ponder...
Was it ever right?

Put together;
plastic needles litter the floor.

Ornaments in boxes;
collected from people long ago
The weight of years past, with
the shine scratched off.
The hooks disappear.
Where the hell do they go?

A wooden manger from
my long dead parents.
Souvenirs from trips.
A moose from Montana.
Globes, bells, a chicken, fish, a moon and two suns.
School projects–
glittery popsicle stick stars.

Too many lights in a tangle,
not enough cords.

The ordeal is boring.
I am tired.

Green stinky tree is less ugly with lights.

Each year, the dilemma.

The damn tree is up.

The cat has no interest in the tree.

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