bringing the misfits home

undulating streams of electric colors run alongside our country squire wagon
steeds of science bursting in night brilliance
only the whimsical-minded might imagine
I sit in the backseat facing the glass rectangle
my little sister’s bouncy copper pigtails resting on my shoulder
my dad imagines he’s an Indy driver
I trust him entirely and deeply
no other man will ever replace this depth of faith
an innocent child possession
holiday neons are electric sperm dancing for my nubile fluttering lashes
I’m joyous, a lame word–joyous, as a little kid I was
falling asleep in the way, way back
the bitter awakening
leaving our warm car late Christmas night after well-wishing
the bitter awakening
leaving my warm home
every night after
adulthood, the gift that keeps giving
my fingers and toes are polished
a deep sparkling red, I’ve never done this
what possesses me now at 53
I’m not sure
I just might be wishing for a ride in a country squire wagon
flying in Santa’s sleigh
we were never on the road
her radial tires–angel halos
her V8 engine–gossamer wings
the little red light on the dash
oil running low on Christmas
Rudolph’s nose lighting the way
bringing the misfits home
I remember when I look at my sparkling crimson nails
I’m an adult
but fuck it

Inner-child Christmas

Inner-child Christmas

my little monster love book is feisty, tonight he bounced to #8 on Amazon’s hot new love poetry releases, whatever the heck that means😊


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