-yule lights (tentative title)-

“I drive around the streets
an inch away from weeping,
ashamed of my sentimentality
and possible love.”

-Charles Bukowski

And it's coming on Christmas, they're cutting down trees
if you know the song you know my mood this season
At least my tree is plastic. I don't know if that's better or worse
than something dead
like me.

Tree friend shines at my feet, red and white lights
reminding me of when I didn't know the terror of life...
"Hey remember that one time...you weren't afraid
of the fact you didn't know what you were doing with your life? Good times..."
Matte and shining ornaments, Santa-suit red and silver, bending the world in their
reflection, like the beliefs i have about myself and its limits.
Silver shining balls on strings wrapping around and around
like my thoughts about a river i could skate away on.
A real life 3-D silver star at the top, higher
than someone as tall as me could reach
even on tiptoe.

The presents will be there soon
and before you ask, yes I am far too old to be receiving so many
and giving so few in return.
And I don't know if I'll ever be able to return
this much favor.
If only I could get the present I need,
the one that only I can give myself.

It's a list longer than the strings of lights ringing around the houses
I walk by as I do my best to escape my own.
But there's only one thing on the list.
Can you guess what it is? No, don't even try,
it would ruin this whole thing.
I like that the only things I can see
are lights as i walk, more colors
than decorate my insides.
It's in the spring that's when my greys really POP.

I walk myself back home but I can't go in yet.
I'm selfish and I'm sad.
Please help me make this more significant than it feels.
Are you out there crying for me somewhere?
If not I'll have to write something better
maybe something like a gift
to try to convince you that someone else out there
knows how you feel.