Embedded Files
Tumultuous Thanksgiving Turkeys
“Hey sweetie, you're looking a lot better than last year”
Last year Aunt Lynn brought her 7th “The One” boyfriend-
new lucky number eight is the fourth one named Dave that's been here.
“Smoking, huh? My father used to smoke.” He opened a can of beer.
Used to smoke until God told him to stop.”
But he still died, didn’t he, Dave? God couldn’t stop that,
Could he, Dave?
“Y’all, Lord father in heaven help me not burn this damn bird”
somewhere in the trenches of the kitchen, captain grandma prays.
“Ehh It’ll turn into a casserole”
Grandpa chokes like the gaping asshole
he is, since he found out his youngest daughter is a lesbian.
“When are you bringing a boy with you?”
Do I have to wait until the news flashes “Florida pedestrian
struck” Until I can get some inheritance?
“Somebody stole my wine!” Monkey see, monkey do,
Mommy monkey is drunk and her monkey children are, too!
“No politics during dinner please!” -everyone's biggest fear.
Dad and Dave rolled their eyes left and right.
The only steam at the table is from ears,
every line and wrinkle from every sagging face,
only seem to upturn when asked “Who wants to say grace?”
The Batteries Died Right Before I Came, and it Reminded Me to Call You Back
You sputter right at the good part,
and abruptly end all your stories with a
“Nevermind”
Lies, lies, lies
Liar, liar, liar
you think I can’t handle your truth
you covered your lies in sticky honey
and your tracks with a kick of sand.
But tonight I’m coating the house in layer after layer of beeswax,
send your prayers to Burt and his apathetic apiary economy.
I am Odysseus, and shoving my middle finger to your Poseidon seas.
I’ve been wrapped around the mast of your finger
like the stubborn barnacles that have burrowed in my heart
Liar, liar, liar
Lies, lies, lies
Your siren calls and cries,
Your siren wails echo from my honeycomb home,
As your siren lies
Your fucking siren lies, like the lyrics of a mindless song
That I can’t stop humming to myself
I’m out of extra batteries
What are you doing tonight?
Knock Knock
I recently moved in down the street
So I thought I should come over and give you
This Edible Arrangements basket.
The pineapple flowers are okay, but I found the honeydew too delicious-
So sorry for eating some,
I guess it was a reverse-housewarming gift!
I know I knocked on your freshly painted French doors aggressively enough
To make you keep your chain on that lock,
So that you’re peeking through the door like
A young toddler, hiding behind your mother’s sunday best
When she introduces you,
And also sorry for the streaks I seemed to have left from pounding on your door,
My silver rings drew deep dark clouds, like the only unbroken gray
Crayola crayon I had left in my box, the intense artist I am.
And I can see the way you are nodding as politely as you can, with your
Clenched cellophane smile, while your eyes flicker to secrets hidden over my head,
And I know you’re trying to close this brand new door on my conveniently placed foot,
But please! Do the neighborly thing and hear me out!
Forgive my forthright excitement, I just want to ask you some questions
About your house, my old childhood home.
And I know that you’ve made it your own
I can respect and appreciate that-
That you’ve managed to construct a shelter
Upon the graveyard of my innocence and naivety
That you’ve hallowed out the mines of my memories-
I’m not resentful, though.
Now please, before that door slams in my face
And not behind my back, tell me:
Where did you find it?
Was it buried in the backyard with my dogs?
Was it tangled in the branches of the oak tree, among lost balls and frisbees?
Or was it hidden in my shoebox in the back of the hallway closet?
Neighbor, can you still hear me through these foriegn French doors?
I hear your blunt response as the deadbolt flicks,
But you’ve forgotten to accept my gift!
Please, when you find it.
Give me back my happy,
Give it back to me,
Give me back my happy,
Please, Please, Please.
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