At Least He Left Me The Christmas Tree


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Earth and sky reverse on the snowy horizon as he tells her he is leaving.

She asks him to bring her back a cinnamon roll and black coffee

Because she chases sweet with bitter on cold days

He grumbles then incredulously that he is leaving leaving

He has no suitcases, no garbage bags, no doubt, no remorse

Well, she sighs low, scattering more tinsel on the tree

She is looking at it now, not him

Can I keep it?

Eye rolls, head shakes, he silently shuffles down the walkway

It has only been a weekend or a year

She doesn’t remember

But she knows he drug this stray tree home yesterday

And already it is time to put the lights on

2 thoughts on “At Least He Left Me The Christmas Tree

  1. This piece provokes before taunting for it subscribes before describing too accurately sometimes the state of our present interactions with each other individually and collectively. It depicts the total un-involvement we have with each other on any real meaningful level while perfectly illustrating how quickly we will move on with the alternative (“He left the tree”)

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