an interim christmas tree
and a to-do list
and a cellular contract
you save from the trash
and jingle bells
from a crinkled walmart bag
and stories of
how you started the car
in december
in nothing but a towel
your dad's christmas gift
a faded flying fish
and another set of lights
becoming stars on the ceiling
above the laundry you
built a mountain with
in the middle of the floor
or not, as there aren't
enough outlets
your electric guitar case
opens to a smile,
it looks great on the
orange wall
as perfect as the
footsteps you leave
across the bamboo floor
I like this with its surprises (lights becoming stars on the ceiling) (the laundry you built a mountain with) (your electric guitar case opens to a smile). You make a wonderful poem out of a lot of incidentals.