Small Family Christmas

Baby rides the tree fore and aft
Baby rocks that tree port then starboard
Baby turns on the marker lights
To make us seasick all these winter nights

The cat watches all
From her perch upon a chair
Head bobbing slightly with the motion
Pupils wide in surprise at the notion

Daddy makes the fudge in the kitchen
Daddy dares the glowing hot copper pot
Daddy stirs with a wooden paddle of devotion
That thickening witches brew chocolate potion

Mommy wraps the presents in the craft room
Mommy puts curls in the ribbon with scissors
Mommy hides what's inside beneath fanciful flights
Adding to the endless sea of Christmas delights

High Impact Santa

The ten inverted fir trees
Jammed halfway into the ground
Should have indicated several issues
Even before I looked around

Beyond where I walked in the snow
Between two ragged parallel tracks
Amidst scattered reindeer roadkill
Legs straight up from on their backs

Trudging deeper into the festive macabrety
Past bits of broken red painted wood
One marked with initials that tested my sobriety
Until I stopped mouth agape and stood

Before me the horrible remains of a fat man
Half naked amidst stones
In a half frozen stream
Sprinkled with confetti'd presents

Awash with cold wet debris

I solemnly took a three-sixty photograph
So as to preserve what I'd seen
For long after the cops will have cleaned it all up
This strange refugee from the downtown SantaCon scene

Love Rating #3.14159

I shall encase you in titanium fantastic
With an under layer of protective plastic
All the better to love you forever
In added preservative we trust

With colored markers
That smell of various fruits
I'll make you cards of commitment
While sitting with a rainbow of dots upon my nose

I'll rate our love as a 9 out of 12
In the Olympic-like competition quinquennial
Floor exercises using red foam bats
Pummeling one another in a Nerf of ecstasy

My love letters shall sing in all analog frog tones to you
Burping and chirping out a spring-like mating meme
Written from my desk deep in the swamp
With only my eyes above the green-grey cool waters

A heart shaped pie will be baked with my hands
Decorated with heart shaped sprinkles
And filled with an authentic minced man-heart
Ripped from the chest of some other love lorn bastard

For I may be in love
But I'm no fool
Not I

Was Mr. Humphrey a Friend of Mine?

Somewhere along the way I've lost my pride
While reaching for the shiny things
The silk ties, gold rings, and granite counter tops

Starting off wanting to end up on top o'the world
Lying in state within a polished mahogany casket
Whereas now I dream of a cheap plywood box

I once knew a lot of somebodies
Though now they've sloughed away too
Along with my ambition and vanity
Snatching away even the memories

Facebook told me that a man had passed away the other day
Reminding me that I went to High School with him
Played football with him for several seasons
And that should I look
I'd find his face in my circa 1989 Ceniad Yearbook

There was an outpouring of sadness upon his home page
Though his eyes would never read it
Telling tales
Sharing pictures
None of which rang a bell with me

I think I had a nickname for him
But I don't remember if he liked it
And that is the only thing I recalled
So I didn't share it

Oh, the fun we used to have _______________ !!
Oh, how I'll miss how he used to always ____________

Mike Humphrey is dead
Long live the memory of the Hump
Even if it isn't in my own head