I’m not a fan of rodents
So I don’t invite them in.
I’ve never felt what Michael Jackson
Sang about in Ben.
They’re wingless sewer pigeons
With big teeth and hairless tails,
And when I see one in my kitchen
I dissolve in girly wails.
Tasked his actresses with acts
That should trouble you
It’s cold outside and wet as well
This time last week was hot as Hell
Assuming Hell’s like 30 C
(The office number next to me)
I’ve been very good.
I’ve only done the things I should
And shied from those I could avoid.
Reward me or I’ll be annoyed.
The house is cozy, toasty warm.
Now, all we need’s a freezing storm
To close the roads so we’ll be stuck
At home on Monday…
No such luck.
The farther up the vine we go
The larger grow the leaves and so
The shadier the grapes beneath
Until the darkness takes your teeth
Take a breath. It’s all okay.
Let everything just fall away.
If it helps you, close your eyes
And picture puffy clouds in skies
So blue it almost makes you weep;
Beneath them, meadows filled with sheep
And butterflies with teddy bears
Who take your woes and make them theirs.
You’re anchored: solid, firm, and stout,
True Zen within, at peace without.
Feel better? Good. Now, if you please,
Release your wallet, watch, and keys.
Notes for this year’s turkey verse:
- Ignore the news.
- Try not to curse.
- Tell everyone you’re glad they’re here.
- Make eye contact to seem sincere.
- Now laugh, so they know that’s a joke.
- Acknowledge that we’re lucky folk for simply being here to share these blessings in a world where exclusionary practices are blossoming like cactuses in desert rain.
- Okay, cacti.
- Look everybody in the eye again (they’ll know the code by now), and
- Tell them, Thank you.
- Take a bow.
Tomorrow’s yesterday’s the present
Yesterday’s tomorrow’s now
Contemplating it’s unpleasant
Must be nice to be a cow
I’m thankful for the opportunity
Bestowed upon me each Thanksgiving Day
To quote myself before my family
And friends. But I still don’t know what to say.
I love that we don’t argue, scream, or fight;
That politics and sports don’t spoil the meal;
That most of us would choose a quiet night
To one in which we slur the words we feel.
I’m thankful that I’m looking forward to
Our late-November gathering of clans,
And that the trope of kin-without-a-clue
Has never reared its head: We’re family fans.
The difficulty is, it’s always thus.
Are there new ways to say I’m glad we’re us?