Good Man, Holiday Theme

I got hired to decorate the liquor store for Christmas and I don’t know what that says about me, but you don’t blink because you think

I can do anything.

I don’t drink.

When the store own asks to tip me in liquor, I am quicker to change the subject.

I believe Jesus was a real man, and a good one at that, but I never spent one day of my life believing in Santa.

I do like trees though. I like trees a lot. And as I’m passing a rack of them for sale on the street. I stick my face fully into one in a way that catches a young man’s eye.

I wish I hadn’t seen.

I fight the urge to scream.

This ass is action packed.

The more thoughtful I am the more beautiful I become.

I always leave for the holidays anyways. But then I have to come back.

I wonder what I would put in the duty free store if give the option.

On the eve of another role reversal, we gaze at perfume and European tourists experiencing Carl’s Jr. in all its mediocrity

Sensory stimulation is discounted at the duty free store. Always in search of a little more smell, a little more feeling, but here you get more bang for your buck.

The heat of my brothers leg against mine is a safety net.
Eh. It’s all the same price, plus the pain of carrying the weight.

That’s a good man.

Work in modernity is horrifying at all tiers. We all will get PTSD from it.

We already have it. A decoration that cannot be packed back in the attic away for the spring.

Now spring can be anything.

Names can now just exist as combination of actions and sensory words. A sweater zooms by me: Rolling Loud. It’s a music festival I think.

Out from our heart comes a field of electricity.

Like the moment I first fell in love with you, never to be a good man,

when you told me your WiFi network was named

BananaHammock.

Inside my body it is home for the holidays,

we let the shopping rage,

we pray for better days,

and with our hands something will be done.

Good.