Christmas shoppers
hunker over the aisles
of marked-down books.
Vegetarian cooking.
WWI Aircraft.
We are all stumped,
our limited knowledge
of each other –
he likes brussel sprouts –
insufficent to the task
of surprised joy.
I know one woman
who always has enthusiasm
at the ready,
before she knows
what the gift is,
glad for whatever
life brings,
a good receiver.
I have a a bad record
with my offspring,
most things go back,
and my sister who
never likes what I send.
My husband never
returns things,
that’s my job,
but not much excites him
that isn’t electronic.
I’m sick of the car
$50,000 autos with
We’re all getting
I saw a box of votives
I’d like, jade green.
There was a green velvet
garment I yearned for
at my birthday,
long since sold
to someone else.
I think we lost
bringing each other
in trying to get
off the obligation hook.
It’s too bad
to let such an
opportunity be corrupted.
I’ve been struggling
to reclaim it for
years, and think I’m
almost back.
Reducing money spent
and number of gifts,
central to the method.
As is lack of worry
and complication.
I’ve tried instead
to hold onto life,
typically subsumed
by holidays,
and, I have found,
the key to a good one.