we put up the tree,
lights strung about my body
colorful and hot in points
attacked by my sister
who has rabies
and laughed at by my mother
who kissed "all the boys"
thirty years ago.
i drive, stout-full
through rain that will freeze overnight
to a room with closed blinds
and professions of what it is
to live the good life
and we are just going to go to bed
kisses on my hips
kbai
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