Holiday Cheer

 

After Hours

 

He raised the goblet to his mouth

It was red wine he’d planned to drink deep

But what were those specs

Skin of the grape not pasteurized

Sediment from the bottom of the barrel

Barrel’s bottom poetically so

That should smell sweet

 

But a closer look

 

They had tiny wings

All eight of them they do, or did

“Seriously?” he exclaimed to no one near

They weren’t moving

They’d had their fill

Died trying to finish it off

That’s a laugh

Like trying to drink the ocean dry

Not in anyone’s lifetime

 

What to do

About these squatters

Skinny-dipping D’Abruzzo pool

He got a spoon

Scooped one by one

Meticulously so

Commanding sternly

“Little bastard, spit it out!”

No response sealed fate all round

Tossed into the disposal

Into infinity ground, mashed more accurately so

Pulverized

The deed now done

He drained his glass without a sound

 

 

 

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My Christmas Stocking

 

Well Here We Are

Now I wonder if it’ll stay.

So far so good without Word. With the latest upgrade Word documents are lost, now you have to pay and for whatever reason the system isn’t putting anything through saying my request can’t be completed, so Pages it is. Why Lord, why? Nah. I’ll move along with the times. Actually I was trying to pay for a monthly subscription … fools. Get out your tools and fix the glitch.

Don’t want coffee, not in the mood for cocoa, fell more like apple cider, nope, feel more like apple cider. Maybe tomorrow…

But I remember 

Like a mythical creature I ran, my feet not touching the ground, or at least that’s how it seemed. Below zero it was and a perfect frozen world

Tres glistened , how about trees petrified from ice outlining each

Too much snow to remove

Frozen white everything was paved

I would not feel the cold

I was going home

Didn’t want to be with him anyway

From New York himself but this place poisens everything, or poisons

Nothing sagged on me that night

Firm and held high by default you could say

Or who I am

In my true form for no one to see I ran

To where I wanted to be

Didn’t know about blurbon shouldn’t it be bourbon manhattans

Back then

With bandaged thumb I can’t type

Is that why

Or did I have one

It’s after 1am which means nothing except I have lots of bad habits to develop over two weeks of Christmas holiday and the first of a new year

I’ll miss nothing first and foremost work

A cappuccino’d be good and fragrant through the place combined with pine scented wax slowly liquifying, liquifying slow

Now which one is better you think

A breath of winter

Tomorrow morning brings a promise of snow

We’ll see