That the holidays,
Don't suck anymore.
That's what the kids call progress,
It's also something you might find underneath a Snapple cap.
Taped a tree to the wall.
Took a drive to Grandma's.
Not the Canadian grandma.
She's dead. Like a cat, she died.
Ate meat with our hands.
Drooled over Natalie Portman's back muscles.
Dragged a pink rocking chair through the snow.
Got loud with family over trivia and dark glass.
Went to late night service with the family.
Only cried once. On the futon.
Decided not to call the East.
Swept the floor and checked the grades.
Kissed the dog and locked the bag.
And,
Into,
Love with the sleep sound, six pound, dripping, dribbling, baby, girl.
~Skin/Toast/Spent/Gold
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