shit christmas

I am looking for the name

of the man who left me here.

We were catching a train to Boston

but there’s no rail here.

I am left with my suitcase on a

nowhere platform.

I could step off into nothing space.

The world could fit inside an egg shell;

hard gray wind.

We’re on the highway marked “evacuation

route” and we’re not moving.

It’s just you and me, Christmas morning,

no tree. We turn on the wall heater and

eat eggs. Our table doesn’t quite

fit in the kitchen.

The coffee can’t stop being bitter. It’s got no coping skills, a negative outlook.

You are dripping like the refrigerator has a leak that’s rotting through the floor.

The kitchen slopes that way.

You stand over there with the door open and I’m afraid you will fall in.

The fridge will go one night while we are sleeping.

It crushes our neighbor who was looking for a snack.

I know it’s not enough to call you snow clouds,

you dissipate.

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